The Rise And The Fall
by thestormreaper
Summary: "It was supposed to be our story, and now it's a letter you might never receive... " It had been one moment of carelessness that decided their downfall. It had been a bit of blood and bravery and then they dragged each other to hell... and possibly back.
1. The Letter

**A warning** : **this is going to be dark. Rated M for explicit language, violence, sexual content and character death and perhaps all of it together at times. It won't be fluffy, and it won't be a story about good people doing nice things. There will be no Ron bashing, no Death Eater turned Saint, no Damsell in Distress or Mary Sue. There will be no further warnings, so proceed with caution. From here on there be monsters. Thank you for reading.**

 **...**

 _grandfather:_ It was the book my father used to read to me when I was sick, and I used to read it to your father, and today, I'm gonna read it to you.

 _grandson:_ Does it got any sports in it?

 _grandfather:_ Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, miracles...

 _grandson:_ Doesn't sound too bad. I'll try and stay awake.

~The Princess Bride

* * *

Chapter 1 – The Letter

* * *

My dearest friend,

I deeply regret what I am about to tell you, for I never intended it to be a story for you to read, a letter you might never receive. It was supposed to be our story, and Ron's, and so many other other's. Merlin's beard, but I miss Ron, and I miss you and I miss myself and our time in Hogwarts that feels so distant now, like some kind of dream your uncle would have hated. I have not been to the castle ever since after Dumbledore's funeral, and one might call me a coward but I might not find it in me to care any longer. I have changed, Harry, and the times have changed, too, and when I once liked to plan ahead and made you think about your future (Circe knows you would have made an excellent Auror) I can no longer _see_ this future, I just don't believe in it any more. Ever since our first year we have fought, again and again, to save a world that might have never been meant for me, certainly wasn't meant for Ron and I have no idea if I will see you ever again.

I wonder, Harry, if you'd even recognise me. If we were to return to Hogwarts ever again, you wouldn't have to worry about your scar standing out, would that make you smile a little? Would you still trust me, still like me? Too much has happened, and for all I doubt and wonder, I know for certain that we can never go back. Whatever lies ahead, the past is gone and so are homework and embarrassing Valentine's Days, innocent self-righteousness (not excluding anyone here) and those lazy summer days where time seemed to stop and flow away at the same time.

I don't know what the future will bring, but I might not have much time left and maybe it's for the better (if you were here, you'd tell me to never even think that, and I'd tell you to let me explain and it would be just like those evenings spent in our common room, when you two'd refuse to believe that Potions is an important class). So before I walk into whatever it is that awaits me, I want someone to know and I will break the silence that has been one of my closest companions and give my story to the only one who might understand or condemn me and I can only hope that you might live to do either. Know that I have never stopped to think about you and Ron, however much you might doubt it as you read my story.

I so hope that my letters find you alive, and if they do not – well, in that case I might see you soon anyway in a truly better place. Whatever happens, I hope to find you on the other side and I hope you can forgive me.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

Hermione


	2. A Moment of Carelessness

Chapter 2 - A Moment of Carelessness

* * *

When we had decided to go and hunt down Voldemort's Horcruxes, after all that had already happened I had still been innocent enough to believe we were going on an adventure, we would be strong and would fight evil and be heroes. Instead I remember sleepless nights, cold and hunger. I was so afraid, I know we all were. Ron had never been fearless, and it made me smile to see he had still ultimately stayed with us, a proof of his loyalty and fighting spirit. I could easily have gone to Ravenclaw and Harry had told me, one dark night, that he was to go to Slytherin before he had begged the Sorting Hat to please please please sort him into Gryffindor, but Ron, he was a Gryffindor from head to toes. From time to time he would put his sleeping bag next to mine and hold me when the cold and the fear would overwhelm me (and I suspect that he, too, would feel its chilly breath in his neck). Harry would occasionally shoot us a glance or two, but he never questioned me, maybe knowing that I was confused enough as it was and probably also a bit lost in his own world, as we all were.

After our visit at 'Lovegood Manor' we'd all been a bit lost in thought. Between learning about the Deathly Hallows and our discussions whether we should focus on them or the Horcruxes to getting used to the fact that, inevitably, friends would die, families would break apart, people would betray each other to survive (and in the end, who could blame them? Xenophilius had tried to save Luna, as would any father, and now they were both missing), we got carried away. And it should have been clear, when we were listening to Potterwatch and I felt so happy seeing Harry smile, for the first time in so long, that there would be a price to pay for every moment of bliss, of carelessness, of innocence. Whatever Lupin had said about the "triumph of good" and the "power of innocence", the truth was that none of us could afford being innocent any more.

We had gone back to our endless discussion regarding the Deathly Hallows, Harry stubbornly sustaining that Voldemort was looking for the Elder Wand abroad.

"Harry-" I tried to say, tired of going over the same thing every second day, but Harry had this determined look in this eyes that should have warned me. He'd had the same look in our first year, and half an hour later I had found myself surrounded by enough Devil's Snare to last me a lifetime. He'd had this look in second year, which is still kind of blurry, by the way, because I spent a good part of it _petrified_ and I imagine Ron would have a word to say about babysitting a dangerous and later demented wizard just around the corner of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol-"

"HARRY, NO!" I screamed, too late-

"-demort's after the Elder Wand!"

for a split second, we looked at each other, as I felt the blood draining out of my face and saw my friends turn just as white, saw their eyes widen as quickly as mine. Then everything went downhill so fast and I know my heart was beating so loudly that I barely heard anything else. "Get out with your hands up!" THUMP – I managed to hex Harry, hoping it would be enough, but never really believing it – THUMP THUMP - "Get up, vermin," THUMP "-you know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you." THUMP THUMP-

And then Greyback's despicable, raspy voice: "We've caught Potter!"

And my heart stopped.


	3. Arrival at Malfoy Manor

Chapter 3 – Arrival at Malfoy Manor

* * *

Whoever built Malfoy Manor had obviously tried to create a building that could manage to look as uninviting as possible while still being more living space than dungeon. Though, of course, it turned out to wonderfully function as both. I remembered Narcissa Malfoy, who looked just as beautiful as she looked cold, but there was a new tiredness in her face and in her whole demeanour. We had been shoved and kicked and dragged into that drawing room I will never be able to forget. I felt numerous portrait wizards watching me, judging me, glaring at me – _they know what I am. They know I don't belong-_ I couldn't stop those thoughts escaping the part of my mind where I had buried them.

"What is this?" a familiar voice asked, and I turned to see Lucius Malfoy, who still looked as aristocratic and cold as his wife. He was still intimidating and radiated arrogance, but Azkaban had added scars to his body and soul and his once hard gaze seemed frantic and broken. I couldn't quite bring myself to hate this man, who looked like a ghost of his younger self, but I couldn't pity him either. I did feel a pang of sympathy when they brought in Draco Malfoy, in whose face I vainly tried to find the annoying brat I had met in first year and gloriously punched in fourth year and instead I found the broken eyes of his father in a face that seemed much too young.

I even dared to hope a little when Draco didn't outright give us away, and even more so when they decided against calling Voldemort right away, for they were still not sure of our identities, and of course I had to pay for that. Harry was brought away to what I assume were the dungeons (who builds a family home with dungeons?) along with Ron, my dear Ron, who screamed at them, begged them to keep him instead of me.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said hatefully. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book."

The last happy thought I had was right then, when I looked at my friends being dragged away by Greyback, and saw Ron's desperate love and almost just as good: didn't recognize Harry. I had used a rare combination of spells, part of them I had stumbled upon in a foreign library spell tomes, and I was as close as I got to confident in these days that only time could reveal Harry's face. I supposed that they didn't have any Veritaserum at Malfoy Manor, or they would have used it on us already, and that Muggle-Born Registration Commission and whatnot had probably drained the Ministry's reserves. With Voldemort potentially being abroad for extended periods of time, I calculated I had bought us two or three weeks.

It takes all of the strength I have left in me not to wish Harry would have been identified right then and there. Because if it were not for the Greater Good, that I have come to detest even though it is all I have left, all I must hold on, any death would have been better than what followed.


	4. The Pain and the Mark

Chapter 4 – The Pain and the Mark

* * *

Before those days I had felt so much. Hope and sympathy and fear and relief, love and desperation, lust and greed, anger, joy, pity and curiosity and pride. During my time in Malfoy Manor I watched helplessly as all of those feelings left me, escaping through the thin veil that my mind hat turned into, as the only thing I learnt to feel was PAIN.

Bellatrix Lestrange had started the torture to find out whether we had broken into her vault at Gringotts, but soon it became obvious that information was her secondary goal.

"You're LYING, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the TRUTH!"

Between cackling and screaming and crying, she was pure insanity and hatefulness. Oddly enough, maybe it was her madness that saved me from becoming a traitor, for I could see no mercy in her eyes. The thought that she'd torture me regardless of what I would say kept me sane while she cut that awful, shameful word into my arm, it kept me sane through "CRUCIO!", again and again and again and again, CRUCIO and CRUCIO and PAIN, SO MUCH PAIN. Ron's screams from downstairs had quieted down, while mine left me uncontrolled. A few hours had passed, I think, and Bellatrix was covered in sweat, an insane grin and a furious grimace fighting for dominance in her face. My own body was covered in blood and sweat and tears and pain, as I laid on that cold floor, both tired and wide awake. We were both panting.

"Not so brave now, little Mudblood, are we, not so brave now," she cackled and walked over to kick me in the ribs, making me wince. I assumed she had broken at least three ribs and my left leg, and I was covered in cuts and bruises, both from curses she had thrown at me and those times she had descended upon me with her knife and claws and fists and boots. I had nothing left in me but silent tears that soon mixed with blood and dirt as they ran down my face, and I felt truly pathetic. _This is not right_ , I thought. _She should not have this much power over me, should not be able to make me feel like there is truth to her supposed superiority_. I had spent so much time in the library, writing essays, preparing for exams, trying to fit in, and it hadn't been good enough, and I was lying on the floor while this evil, crazy, purebl- while she was allowed to hurt me and stand and laugh. I looked at my arm and winced once again when I read, written in my flesh in bloody letters: _'Mudblood_ '. For all I had fought, in the end I hadn't been able to escape from my supposed disgrace, and now I was just as marked as a fucking Death Eater. That scar wouldn't leave me, no matter how much time I'd spend at the library, no matter how good my Patronus was or how many times I'd read **Hogwarts: A History**.

With one last look at my arm, I passed out.

* * *

When I woke up again, I found myself in a barren room, lying on the stone floor. Someone had replaced my clothes with a plain, ragged dress, and if the previous hours had not happened, I would have probably been ashamed of the thought that someone had possibly seen my body. I looked around: There were some rags in one corner and a wooden bowl filled with brackish water standing next to an old wooden table. No sight of other prisoners, and no sound got through the massive door in front of me. I staggered over to the bowl and tried to wash some of the blood and the mud off my body. Someone had healed my leg, but my ribs were still hurting and the water burned my skin as I washed over countless cuts on my arms, legs and feet. I rubbed my skin until blood started to pour out of some cuts again, trying to forget how I had cried and sobbed and even begged for death in front of that wicked woman. I saw a blurred, foggy reflection of my red and puffy eyes in the surface of the water and felt so ashamed for my weakness. _That's not how you pictured the hero you'd become,_ I thought bitterly and at the same time painfully jealous of my past self's naïveté.

Suddenly, I heard steps approaching. I hadn't even bothered to check the door – surely a bunch of Death Eaters wouldn't just let me wander off – and I heard it unlock after a series of magic impulses, silent spells, I assumed.

I felt only slightly relieved when it was Lucius Malfoy who opened the door, because at least it wasn't Bellatrix. He took a moment to take in my ragged cloth that was by now covered in red spots, my bruised arms and legs, my unkempt hair, that had grown quite a bit during the last month and probably looked just as wild as Bellatrix's by now and my wet skin that I hadn't manage to clean completely. His lips curled into a sneer so quickly that it seemed more like a reflex than like a conscious action. He looked like he enjoyed the sight of my desolation immensely. He might have lost a lot after the battle in the Ministry, but compared to him, even now, I was dirt in his eyes. Again, though, it was this broken look in his eyes that kept me from damning him as fiercely as Bellatrix.

"Ah, if it isn't our favourite mudblood," and I could hear that despicable sneer in his voice, even without looking at him. _Just leave me alone. I don't want to play your stupid games._ But I said nothing.

"I've heard the tales, you know. 'Brightest witch of our age'... And there must be a little truth to it, since you have kept your stupid little friends alive up until now-"

"They're not-" I opened my mouth without thinking, used to defending my friends. _How dare you? What do you know about-_ But Malfoy raised his hand in a way that left no room for arguments, and I was tired anyway.

"They are, and I would not have expected anything more from them. You, on the other side..." his voice now changed, and it might have sounded alluring in other circumstances. Now it made my skin crawl.

"Surely you have understood, by now, that we have methods, mudblood, that defy your clever magic tricks. Of course you understand, you're the smart one, are you not?" he was almost whispering by now, his voice smooth and even. "Right now your situation looks hopeless, but it doesn't have to be. You are talented, nobody questions that," and I crawled backwards until I felt the wall in my neck, as he knelt down, leaning in my direction, his voice a soft murmur by now.

"There might be a place in the new world for you, Miss Granger, the Dark Lord has always recognized power, has always respected magic, and your cooperation would not be forgotten," his face was nauseatingly close by now. "You and your little friends have suffered, haven't you, enough for a lifetime I wouldd wager. It does not have to be this way, Miss Granger, surely you understand that..." and I could feel his breath on my face, could feel that twisted smirk in my ear.

"You could save your friends with a few words, girl. The Dark Lord does not forget loyalty, and neither do I. Bravery does not always mean to fight battles... You could save your friends, and you would be a hero, and perhaps even protect your fellow... Muggle-Borns, I am sure..."

By now I was basically pressed against the wall, dizzy from his sweetly poisoned words, hurting from the pressure on my wounded body, almost wanting to fall for his pretty lies. But when I heard him utter the word 'bravery', when I heard him talking about 'heroes', I came back to my senses all right. You see, I had experienced so much pain by then, so much hardship, but I still remembered the girl I had been, not long ago, who believed in heroes and who knew exactly what was Good and what was Not, and _you killed that girl, you prejudiced bastards, you made me a hollow copy of that girl,_ and with that thought I spit in his face, that had been a pleasant mask up until then, and where now my spit was mixed with my blood and my disgust and my bravery, as he called it, and before I could even see his face turning into a hateful grimace I felt him slap me hard enough to make my head spin and make me crash to the floor where my hot skin met the cold stone.

I felt him kick me in the ribs, that had felt a little better than before, and now started hurting again, so much, _so much_ , and I think I heard myself scream or did I just cry?

Lucius regained his composure quickly, and with one last kick he spoke, his voice now cold and cruel, leaving all pretences behind.

"You could have saved yourself, you filthy little mudblood. I have offered you more than you could have hoped for, more than you are worth. You will soon enough wish you would have accepted my generosity."

And with that he left my chamber, my cell, and it was now that my ordeal truly began.


	5. Beauty & Steel & the Warmth of Vengeance

Chapter 5 – Beauty and Steel and the Warmth of Vengeance

* * *

I started to treasure my memories instead of my plans. My body was weakening, but I had built a castle in my mind. I remembered my first Butterbeer, that I knew wasn't very strong, but it made me giggle and feel warm. I remembered my relief when I was sorted into Gryffindor. Up until then, my thirst for knowledge had separated me from anyone else, and yet I had been sorted into a house that meant loyalty, that meant friends. The Weasley twins had patted my back, like they were happy to have me there, like I wasn't a bother. That made me feel belong. Even more so when Harry and Ron ( _please, Merlin, let them be safe)_ had come to my rescue when Quirrel had let that troll into the castle. They hadn't even liked me back then, and were still willing to risk their lives for me. I wouldn't make them regret that.

I quickly lost my sense of time, so I started counting sleeping as night time. Bellatrix had been angry about my resistance at first, but now she seemed delighted. She had come to my room in the morning singing and humming, her screeching voice had stung in my ear.

"We are going to spend a lot of time together from now on, you muddy girl," she had chirped. "Girls need to stay together, isn't that right? No matter how _filthy_ -" and she traced the sore mark she had left on my arm, and hummed happily. "No more tricking people into thinking you're a real witch now, will you?" I looked at her arm to find the Dark Mark and couldn't help to say: "We have a very different idea of filth, Bellatrix."

I was prepared for another slap, but I saw her manic grin widen and she spoke in a sing-song voice: "Oh, we're still brave now, still brave, but I will make sure to teach you your place, I will."

And with those words she dragged my back to that terrible drawing room, never losing that wide smile even as I kicked and screamed on my way there.

It had felt good to defy her, but truth be told, it had been a bluff, and I was out of my mind with fear. _I survived yesterday,_ I told myself, _I'm going to survive today_. But when I heard the first "Crucio!" I was, again, alone. There was pain, so much fucking pain, my skin was burning and I felt my bones cracking and my skin breaking and then it was over for a moment.

I spent the morning like that, I don't remember much between Bellatrix's mad cackling and CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! And I think I heard other voices, heard a cold chuckle and "Bella, don't you think..." and CRUCIO! And the pain, the pain, the pain.

She half-heartedly tried to question me, but weak as I might be I still wasn't ready to give that part of myself up.

"I swear it's not Harry, he's hiding, I swear, we just found that sword, please please please," and she was half frown, half delight - for what was my torture was her favourite game.

 _I'll keep them safe_ , I kept repeating in my head, _I won't turn into a traitor, I won't make them regret helping me_ (one time, after a nightmare during the time Ron had left us, Harry had told me: "Seriously, Hermione, I'll never regret saving you," and he seemed so outraged at the thought that I had actually started to laugh because in that moment my fear had seemed so irrational). Slowly, though, I saw my thoughts changing to _I'll make her pay, I'll make them pay, I'll be stronger and I'll make them beg and tremble in fear,_ and I saw that picture in my mind of that damned woman, lying at my feet, that ugly smile wiped off her face, I saw Lucius Malfoy covered in blood, but this time it wasn't mine, I rejoiced in the image of Greyback being shred by some curse or another, I'd find the right one for sure. The beautiful memories that had kept me going were replaced by dark promises of vengeance.

Only later, in the darkness of my chamber, would I remember my twisted thoughts and be frightened of how warm they had made me feel.

Narcissa Malfoy had entered my cell to bring me new water, and she even had an old loaf of bread with her and an apple, which she carefully placed on the table in the corner. She shot me a glance that was cold, but not cruel, a small hint of doubt in her pale eyes, but she rushed out through the door without a word. I forced myself to eat, I was starving and yet I had to fight down every bite. I looked at my haggard face in the reflection of the water. How much time had passed since I had last recognized my reflection in the mirror? Carefully, I started to tend to my wounds as good as I could, washing down blood until the water turned red. I remembered Dumbledore telling Madam Pomfrey that he had a scar that looked like a perfect map of the London Underground, and I chuckled lightly. Maybe I could ask Bellatrix to try her hand at drawing an escape plan on my other arm, just to see her face.

There was nothing to do, so I kept walking through my mind palace, revisiting the good memories and what had until then been bad memories, but somehow they were just as precious to me. One time at the beginning of fourth year, Parvati had gotten the idea that we needed to keep up with the Beauxbatons girls, and convinced Lavender and me (though it hadn't taken much convincing for Lavender) to get all vamped up. Parvati and Lavender had giggled when I didn't know one single beauty spell and it had turned into a full blown laughing fit when they watched me suspiciously approaching Lavenders red lipstick. In the end, they had taken care of me, Lavender of my hair and Parvati of my face and I was kind of happy with myself until Seamus almost choked on his pumpkin juice when he saw me at the breakfast table and Harry wouldn't stop grinning at me. I had muttered something about it being a joke, and had gone to the bathroom to clean my face.

 _Seamus would probably choke if he saw my face now, too,_ I thought, and closed the door to that memory.

I had begun to build doors and walls in my palace, and was very careful with what I left unlocked. Unlike Harry, I had been training Occlumency obsessively even while still in Hogwarts, without telling anyone. There had always been the possibility of someone capturing us, and I didn't want to become the liability that I had always been afraid to be. I had learned to conceal and to focus and right now I was building a last resort filled with joy and beauty and protected by stone walls and steel.


	6. The Tempting Lies of a Crooked Snake

Chapter 6 – The Tempting Lies of a Crooked Snake

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, my rips seemed to have partially healed once again. Someone, I suspected Narcissa, had put an old comb on the table along with fresh water. I drank reluctantly, always afraid of Veritaserum or poison and combed my hair that had become so entangled that it hurt a great deal getting through it. I washed off the blood of some of the deeper gashes that kept opening up over night. There was nothing I could do to clean the blood stains out of my dress. I looked at the gaunt, pale woman that stared back at me with sunken, dark eyes and long, messy hair. There were bruises and cuts all over her ( _all over me_ , I had to remind myself). I knew I had never been a beauty but what I saw in the reflection looked like a dead woman. I wondered if death would have been preferable to my current situation, but with one thought of Harry and Ron I cast that gloomy thought away. I wished, once again, that our last conversation hadn't been some stupid fight about those stupid Deathly Hallows. Who cared now what exactly Voldemort was up to?

My thoughts were interrupted by heavy steps approaching my chamber. Bellatrix moved like a cat stalking its prey, so it couldn't be her. I wondered whether there were other prisoners around this part of the manor when I hear my door open and Lucius Malfoy stepped inside, his movements smooth and confident. His face was an emotionless mask, but surely he was pleased seeing me like this, that arrogant bastard.

"I hope to find you in a better mood today, Miss Granger? I am not keen on repeating our... conversation from yesterday, and I should hope my _dear_ sister in law has taught you some manners by now." I saw disgust distort his face for a heartbeat as he mentioned Bellatrix, but it was immediately replaced by his controlled coldness again.

I felt anger rise inside me. "Fuck you, you coward, you _monster_ ," I said, before I could change my mind for the better. "You act all superior, but even now you will let others do the work you think beneath you. Do you feel proud of yourself for facing a wandless schoolgirl? You're-" I quickly closed my mouth as I saw his mouth become a thin line and a dangerous gleam enter his eyes.

"I assure you, foolish mudblood, that while I surely think the likes of _you_ beneath me, it was not my aversion to inflict pain that kept me from joining Bellatrix." Again there was this hint of disgust, quickly vanishing again when I tried to get a hold of it. "I merely did not realise that you would feel... _neglected_ , but I cannot have you tell spread rumours of me being a lazy host now, can I?" And the dangerous gleam spread from his eyes to his mouth, where a hint of an evil smirk appeared, soon to be replaced once more by his controlled, neutral expression. _Why did I have to insult him,_ I thought furiously _, I know he is evil, I saw him fight, why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut for once-_ But now the Death Eater moved his hand slightly _,_ flicked his wand in a movement I didn't recognize, and all thoughts left my head as I felt dark magic pulling at my wounds, tearing them open, pressing against the gashes, oh _it burned_ , and I felt blood slowly running down my cheek where an old wound had opened, saw the bruise on my wrist darken, heard myself sobbing and screaming. Then, after what could have been a few minutes or an hour or a day, it stopped.

There was no expression in my tormentors face. Bellatrix would have been singing by now, but there was neither joy nor anger in the grey orbs that looked down on me and made my blood freeze.

"You do have a point though, girl," Lucius said casually, as if they were just continuing a pleasurable chat that had been interrupted. "Indeed I appreciate the work of others. Only a fool would insist on working alone. And I certainly will not refuse efficiency for the sake of pride, although I am quite sure your Gryffindor friends would stubbornly disagree," he sneered. I suppressed a snort at the thought of Lucius Malfoy talking about renouncing his pride.

"I am hopeful that you will think well of my words, Miss Granger. Stubbornness does not suit you." He stepped closer to me, his unmoved eyes staring intently down at me. "I know, I know, you Gryffindors are so very fond of your pride, of your _bravery_ , but I have been told you place loyalty above all. It is only a matter of time your blood traitor friend starts to talk, but how much will he suffer until then? And what about that other boy, who you insist is not Potter? Surely you do not want him to suffer unnecessarily, Potter or not?"

His voice had gone down to a soft murmur once again and I instinctively leaned towards him in an attempt to hear his words. This was the first time someone had mentioned Ron and Harry ever since we had been separated. It seemed they were both alive, and something in Lucius Malfoy's voice made me think the Death Eaters were counting on me to break. Maybe that meant that Harry and Ron were better than me, I so hoped it did.

I suddenly realised how close to me Malfoy was standing when he leaned down to me, half a smirk on his lips when he took in the sudden pang of longing and eagerness that must have showed in my eyes with the mention of my friends.

"You can save them, Miss Granger. Wouldn't that be... brave?" His face was now right in front of mine, his grey eyes piercing right through me. Something close to a smile was now lightening up his face, the evil gleam in his eyes replaced by a softness that could have fooled me, had he not tortured me mere minutes ago, had I not known he was a Death Eater. _Why can someone so rotten look so beautiful on the outside? He should resemble his repulsive master, and instead he looks..._ But I suppressed this impulsive thought and suddenly realised how uncomfortably close he was. With a shudder I broke free from his gaze and chastised myself for my carelessness. I stepped back and spit: "You speak of bravery, you speak of my intelligence. Do not insult me by acting like you believe in either, you foul, crooked man!" and I retreated until I could feel the wall against my back, trying desperately to get hold of some kind of support with my shaky hands. It scared me how easily I had swayed. Was I losing my mind? How much longer could I endure this until madness would claim me, or had it already begun?

The fake smile that had begin to form on Malfoy's face had turned into a cruel smirk that felt way more natural but just as unsettling. As he walked towards me, he lost all artificial casualness and I pressed back into the wall, wishing I could just disappear. His smirk widened at my obvious fear and his movements were all but predatory now, missing the insane playfulness that defined Bellatrix. He didn't look like a cat playing with its prey, like she did when she was fighting or torturing, instead he seemed as cruel and brutal and unforgiving as winter. He was towering above me, our bodies almost touching, and my eyes widened in fear. Was he planning on...? _Oh Merlin please don't take this away from me, too, please please don't let me be-_ I flinched as he raised his hand to trace my collar bone, his finger burning my skin and I wasn't able to scream, was paralysed in fear. Suddenly his hand shot upwards and he was now gripping my throat, lifting me up in the air against the wall. I struggled to breathe, but he only tightened his grip and a slight tremble told me he was _laughing_.

"Did you honestly think I would defile myself with you, mudblood? Could that be wishful thinking, even?" I was starting to panic, _I can't breathe I can't breathe,_ and barely registered his humiliating words.  
"You will find that I have been very accommodating until now, girl, and you might want to take advantage of that, for I can assure you I am not a patient man. Do not try me."

And with these words he let me fall down on the floor, gasping for air, and turned around to leave my cell without so much as a last glance in my direction.

I sat on the floor, panting, and traced the bruised skin of my throat with my fingers. A tear slipped out of my eyes, then another, and soon I was silently sobbing, my hands still folded in front of my throat, and thoughts of violence started to enter my mind. The last thing that went through my mind before I collapsed was me, choking Lucius Malfoy with my bare hands, his white skin turning darker and desperation spreading in his eyes, his beautiful face turning into an ugly grimace of pain and fear.

I passed out with a small smile that cracked my lips.


	7. Lonely Princess of an Impenetrable Fort

**A review a day keeps an infant alive. And by infant, I mean myself.**

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Chapter 7 – The Lonely Princess of an Impenetrable Fortress

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There had been a lot of joy in my life, a lot of marvel and happiness, and fear and sadness, too. I carefully arranged memory after memory in my head in the following days, when a terrible routine started to set in. In the morning I would wake up, my body sore and hurting, my skin a bit paler, the circles under my eyes a bit darker, with more cuts and bruises on my body than the previous day. Someone seemed to keep healing some of my broken bones and bigger wounds when I slept, though I didn't think it happened out of mercy but instead to prolong my agony. Right now I was more useful to them alive, but that did little to cheer me up. Occasionally there would be stale food on my table, not enough to leave me satisfied but enough to keep me from starving. Narcissa entered my room one more time and brought a new dress, for mine was stiff with dried blood and old sweat by now. This time I had no doubt that I had seen a hint of regret in her face, underneath her cold and lifeless face, but she had cast a hesitant look in my direction and her face had hardened again as she quickly retreated.

After that, someone, usually Bellatrix herself, would drag me off to the drawing room that was so painfully familiar by now. Sometimes Lucius Malfoy would join her, but he would seldomly participate in the torture. He'd look at me in a calculating way, and while Bellatrix seemed to have lost all interest in questioning me ("She'll soon beg us to let her tell us what little she knows, anyway," she had cackled), Lucius' focus remained on obtaining knowledge on Harry's whereabouts, our plans, our knowledge. _If you think I'm gonna help you to crawl back into your bastard Lord's favour, you're wrong,_ I thought, hanging on to what little satisfaction I could get these days. Apart from Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback, no one seemed to know about our presence. I assumed they were deathly afraid of disappointing Voldemort once again, who was still strangely absent because of that. Surely they would have told them they had captured Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger by now, even if they were not sure of Harry's identity, had there not been something very important keeping him busy. I started regretting the vehemence with which I had discarded Harry's theories about the Deathly Hallows. What if he had been right, and Voldemort was close to finding something that would increase his power even further, make him even harder, if not impossible, to defeat?

Lucius had come to visit me twice more. One time I had asked him about Voldemort, then about my friends, and told him I would take revenge, and he would suffer even if it was the last thing I'd do in my life and he had slapped me _hard_ and had left me lying on the floor with a thin flow of blood escaping my lips. When he had come the second time, I had refused to say anything at all, to look at him, to react to his presence. He had called me a foolish girl and left my dark chamber and hadn't come back, and somehow that scared me.

During the torture sessions I had started to retreat into my mind palace. I had discovered something that was close to, but still not exactly like Occlumency. It allowed me to escape into the depths of my mind, where I'd go through memory after memory, building rooms and gardens. Some memories I revisited many times, like the one where I had received the letter that had told me I was a witch, that I was _special_ , but for the first time it hadn't been the kind of _special_ adults used to justify why other children wouldn't play with me. One of my other favourites was the Yule Ball. I had never thought myself to be vain, but it had certainly felt good seeing everyone looking at me in amazement, even admiration. The look on Ron's face had been one of so much astonishment that it had almost been insulting, but it was in that moment that I had, for the first time in my life, dared to think that I _could_ be beautiful.

There were memories of my parents, of my mother reading bedtime stories to me, of my father telling me I he was proud of me, even before I had gotten the letter from Hogwarts that made me think that there was something he could actually be proud of. How I had broken one of my mum's favourite teacups one time as a child, without knowing how I did it. I had been so afraid of her anger or disappointment that I had started to cry, and then she had just hugged me and said that no cup was as dear to her as I was and had wiped my tears away. They were happy memories, but I rarely looked at them, because they always went along with the nagging sadness of knowing that I was the only one who remembered.

Like that, I retreated deeper and deeper into my palace. It didn't make the pain go away, didn't stop me from screaming and crying and begging for it to stop (if maybe less than before), but it allowed me to keep my sanity (or some of it), and it would make me remember who I used to be before pain and desperation had replaced all of my other feelings. But the _other_ images became more and more frequent, too. There were days where I fell asleep with violent thoughts keeping me warm. I built a basement in my palace where I kept those dark images that weren't memories but started to feel just as vibrant and real. There was me, torturing Bellatrix the way she was torturing me, approaching her left arm with a small knife, because if she was allowed to leave a mark on me it seemed only fair to take hers away. There was me, with an arrogant sneer on _my_ face, kneeling down as I tore into Lucius Malfoy, who was now lying on the floor instead of looking down on me, slapping him until he started to spit blood that would somehow look so beautiful on my hands. The moments were those dreadful thoughts would scare me became rarer and rarer. Sometimes I pictured Greyback getting eaten by wolves, screaming in agony as I watched him die. The irony of it did not escape me.

Speaking of Greyback, I started to notice him turning up for my torture sessions from time to time, staring at me with obvious lust and hunger (he probably didn't know the difference between the two), his face distorted into a wide, wolfish grin as he saw me quivering on the floor. When I would refuse to answer Lucius' questions he would lick his lips greedily and bark in laughter as I would inevitably be punished for it. He never participated in the torture, which I didn't quite understand but somehow I was almost happy for Bellatrix's presence and obsession with me if only because it meant that I wasn't left alone with that degenerate werewolf.

In the afternoons I would be dragged back to my room, tend to my wounds and pace up and down in the confined space of my chamber, trying to think of something that could save us or apathetically sitting in one corner of the room, walking through my fortress, raising walls and digging a trench around it, until I was sure not even Voldemort would be able to enter it. _Though he could still tear it down_ , I thought darkly. Eventually I would fall asleep, which was bad, because it meant nightmares, or pass out from the pain and exhaustion, which was bad, because it meant a painful awakening. By now I had spent almost two weeks like that.

It was amazing what human beings could get used to, because it took a lot of effort to remember my life hadn't always been like that. But the overwhelming fear that had torn up my heart at the beginning had started to become a dull shadow on my mind instead. I knew now that I could endure whatever they threw at me, which didn't make it less painful, didn't take away the fear or the anger or the desperation but it was reassuring, in a way.

Apparently, Bellatrix or Lucius or whoever had come to the same conclusion, because one day, after I had woken up from an especially terrible nightmare, I had been dragged to the drawing room and there was Ron, in the middle of the room, staring at me with wide eyes.


	8. Blinding Light and Silence

Chapter 8 – Blinding Light and Silence

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For a long time, I could do nothing but stare at Ron as he stared back at me, none of us making a sound, none of us breathing, until suddenly I started to shake violently and almost tripped over my own feet as I ran into his arms, hugging him no matter how much it hurt my battered body. For the first time in Merlin knows how long I cried out of sadness and happiness and fear instead of just pain and I felt tears running down his warm cheek as well.

"Calm down, 'Mione, gotta calm down, 's all good," Ron murmured as he was gently stroking my hair, and it seemed like he was really talking to himself. I took his familiar, beloved smell in with a deep breath, then I took a step back to really look at him. He seemed malnourished and had bruises in his face and on his arms, a few cuts, too, but otherwise he seemed fine, much better than me, anyway. I breathed out in relief that he didn't share, obviously.

"By Merlin, what have they done to you?" he asked me, his voice trembling with anger. "I'm so sorry, 'Mione, I asked them again and again to see you, to take me instead, but they would never answer. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept repeating, panic creeping into his voice, and I hugged him again, this time comforting him instead of the other way around.

"It's okay, Ron, it's not your fault! It will be good, Ron, don't worry. It could be worse." I tried to sound calm and collected, even though I couldn't say where I took this calmness from.

"How in Circe's name could it be worse?!" he asked me.

"Well, Professor McGonagall could show up to tell me I failed everything," I said, and Ron chuckled. The sound was like music to me. It seemed so ridiculous now that this had once been my greatest fear.

I wanted to ask him how he was being treated, how Harry was, if he was still 'safe', when familiar, heavy steps behind me reminded me that we were not alone, a fact I had blissfully forgotten.

"Isn't that _touching_ , Bella, the reunion of the lovebirds," I heard Malfoy ask mockingly and Bellatrix replied with one of her manic cackles and suddenly all happiness was swept out of my heart by violent, overwhelming fear.

"The filthy mudblood whore and the impoverished blood traitor," Bellatrix screeched enthusiastically. "It's as if they're _trying_ to be as much of a disgrace as humanly possible!" Her voice was filled with amusement and disgust at the same time.

Suddenly, the sneer drained out of Malfoy's voice and he was all pleasure and manners and politeness once again, not quite enough to fool me but enough to stir up something strange within me.

"Miss Granger, I do know you have suffered terribly over the last days, but let me remind you that it does not _have_ to be like this. I have not kept my grip on the Ministry by threats alone, and there is no shortage of people who would assure you that I can be quite... _generous._ " Once again a hint of that friendly smile appeared on his face and made something inside me scream _DANGER! DANGER!_

"I will ask you one last time to reconsider my offer. Tell us what you know, and you and your friend will be spared, will be able to walk out of here alive and free." His words were alluring, and I wish I could say that I discarded his offer right away, but I wasn't that strong and brave. I saw Ron standing in front of me, saw his familiar red hair, his soft eyes, his face that I had found again and again in my most cherished memories and for a moment I wanted nothing more than to take his hand and walk out of this terrible place for good. To leave everything behind, no more pain, no more fighting and running and hunger and cold and no more torture ever again. But the anger in his eyes brought me back to my senses and I realised that Bellatrix had used the _Incarcerous_ spell on him, because now he was fighting against ropes that were tightly holding him in his place.

"Don't tell them anything, 'Mione! I'm fine, I'll be all right!" he said, vainly fighting against Bellatrix's spell. As he saw the desperation in my eyes, he added, now in a calmer voice: "Listen, please listen, okay? Whatever happens, you can't tell them anything, you have to promise! If they know, we'll all die, Luna and Neville and McGonagall and everyone and Vol- You-Know-Who is going to win and no one can st-" and then Malfoy interrupted us once again.

"Bellatrix," he said in a bored tone, and then my heart was torn into pieces as Bellatrix screeched: "CRUCIO!" and Ron started screaming, and oh Circe, this was torture. I began screaming, tears streaming out of my eyes, begging them to stop, but they didn't. Ron continued to scream as Bellatrix made the ropes disappear, so now he had crashed on the floor, jerking and shaking in pain and tears were dripping down on his cheeks, but he wasn't able to speak coherently anymore.

Suddenly it stopped, and my screams turned into silent sobs, as I sank down next to Ron to hold his hand, afraid to touch him and cause him any more pain.

"Have you made up your mind yet, Miss Granger? Still determined to make your friends suffer out of stubbornness? You can end it right now."

I felt tired and lost, and my heart was in shambles. I slowly opened my mouth, ready to kill and ready to die, when Ron's weakened voice reached my ears.

"Don't, 'Mione. You gotta promise me, okay?" and he squeezed my hand and the fog in my head cleared a little. I raised my head and looked Malfoy straight into the eyes as I said: "I promise."

I took immense pleasure in the frown that took over the bastard's face at my words, and quickly looked back to Ron, who was now grinning like I had just stood up to Professor Snape or something, and I found myself grinning back at him, an expression I had become so unused to that it made my lips crack open once again, but I did not care. For the first time in weeks, I felt hope. They had tortured us, but we were strong, we weren't like _them_ , and Ron would never leave us again, and maybe, just maybe, we could make it out of here after all-

" _Avada Kedavra_ "

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A flash of blinding green light.

A rushing sound.

And silence.


	9. Unanswered Question, Questionable Answer

Chapter 9 – Unanswered Questions and Questionable Answers

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I don't remember much from the following days.

They still dragged me to the drawing room. I felt the pain and I screamed, but my tears were a physical reaction to the pain, nothing more, and I had stopped to beg. Lucius had visited me in my cell once, the Day after the Green Light, but his words didn't get through to me, and when he had slapped me and kicked me I had simply curled up into a ball and waited for it to be over and he had left my room. Narcissa had brought a new dress once again, along with food that looked almost inviting, but I could barely bring myself to eat anymore. The only thing that kept me alive was the fear that I'd cave in and tell them about everything if I allowed myself to become too weak.

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One day, I heard a commotion outside, and something like mild curiousness stirred inside me, but soon it had ended and my curiousness immediately subsided.

A while later I was dragged into the drawing room by a furious Bellatrix. Her curses were even stronger than usual, she must have been livid about something, and my screams could be heard throughout the manor, but even then I didn't care much. Just silently hoped for it to end, for her to slip and accidentally kill me. She hurled curses at me and kicked me and scratched my skin open, and I felt my bones break. _This time she'll mess up for sure_ , I thought. Even Greyback, who was sitting on an armchair in the corner looked a bit uneasy, though the greed in his eyes made me think his discomfort was directed at the madwoman's unhinged mental state rather than my well-being.

"That's enough, Bella." I heard Malfoy's tense voice. There was no compassion, something else was wrong. For the first time ever since _That Day_ I looked up and saw something akin to fear in his eyes. _Good,_ I thought.

Bellatrix and Lucius had a heated, if hushed, conversation. Both seemed to be angry, but I couldn't gather much of what they were saying. I heard the words "Apparition" and "cellar" and then I thought I had heard somone say "Dobby", but that had to be my mind playing tricks on me. Bellatrix huffed and stomped out of the room, and Malfoy got me on my feet. He brought me to my chamber, with a tight grip on my arm but at least he wasn't dragging me. He even filled my bowl with fresh water with a small flick of his wand and a quick look at my body, that was in the worst state it had ever been during my stay here. There was still no compassion in his gaze, but no contempt either, which surprised me.

"Clean yourself," he said silently. He looked at me for a moment longer, opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he turned around and hurried out of the room.

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I was left alone after that for several days. No one came to drag me anywhere. Occasionally, I would wake up to some food or fresh water. Someone had healed my nastiest injuries. Sometimes there would be a light orb illuminating my room, but some days I spent in complete darkness. I wondered if they had forgotten me already, if they would just let me wither away, but I didn't care much about that or about the darkness. I'd sit or lie on the floor, pressed against one wall or another (I didn't feel comfortable with too much open space around me, a habit I had picked up quickly after we began hunting for Horcruxes). I spent much of the time with my mind in a haze, but occasionally I'd still visit some of my less painful memories and I couldn't be but amazed by the fact that there was something left inside me, yet. I visited the basement of my fortress for a few times, too, but hate is a consuming emotion and there was little enough of me as it was.

My mind started slowly working again. I hadn't cried out of sadness ever since _That Day_ , and I wasn't now. Feelings were dangerous. But I my thirst for knowledge had survived, and I started carefully arranging what little information I had. There wasn't anything else to do in the darkness of my cell, so I connected dot after dot, tried to find missing pieces and went over snippets of information I had heard, again and again (carefully avoiding certain memories).

Something bad had happened, bad for the Death Eaters, apparently, which was probably good for me. It had to do with the cellar, which was the place I assumed Harry and the others to be kept in. There were Anti-Apparition Wards over Malfoy Manor, that much was evident, but I was confident I had heard the word "Apparition". There was no way someone could have escaped out of here, just like it was impossible to apparate into Hogwarts except for the House-el-

Suddenly I remembered hearing the word "Dobby". I had believed to have misheard something, because what did Dobby have to do with- But could it be, that...? How would he know where they kept us, and why would they leave me behind? And who-

But my thoughts were interrupted by loud steps approaching my room, steps I didn't recognize. They were heavier than Bellatrix's and more careless than Malfoy's. Surprises were never pleasant at Malfoy Manor, _but then again,_ I thought, _how much worse could it be_?

My question was answered as Fenrir Greyback stepped through the door, a wide, distorted grin on his face.


	10. A Violent Fog

**In case you didn't notice - there's a pinterest link on my profile that'll give you a bit of a visual background to the story. Do feel free to pay a visit. For the lazy:** **pin dot it / PdZdYTb**

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Chapter 10 – A Violent Fog

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After all I had gone through during the last weeks, there should have been no more fear inside me. Bellatrix was an unpredictable maniac and Malfoy a sadistic tyrant, so my company had not exactly been pleasant up until then. Why did Greyback's appearance terrify me so much, then? I didn't bother with words, I backed off into the furthest corner from that degenerate _beast_ , pathetically cowering with my arms in front of my face. It only made him chuckle.

"You'd think I'd get used to the begging and the cowering, my delicious little Mudblood girl, wouldn't you? But every time feels like the first time to me, makes my stomach flutter all nicely, if ya get me." He slowly stepped closer, taking in my desolation, sniffing as if he could smell my fear. He probably could.

He was standing right in front of me, now. With an abruptness that made me gasp, I was jerked up by my wrists, which he kept in a grip so tight it was bound to leave marks. He forced me to stand, holding my wrists, that were stiffly crossed over my chest in vain protection, tightly. His bestial smell was suffocating from this distance. _Make him speak_ , I thought, trying to get a grip on myself, _speaking means temporary safeness_.

"W-what do you want?" my voice faltered miserably, but at least I managed to finish the sentence.

"Ahh, don't know what's more delicious, your fear or your feistiness. Makes my blood boil," he growled, the greed had now completely taken over his eyes.

"No sense in keeping it from you, 's not like you can avoid it anyway, righ'?" he said smugly. "There has been a little uproar with some prisoners. Nothing to worry your pretty little head with, so hush. But there is no more need to wait, and they have decided it's time to call _Him_..." The pang of fear in his voice made it obvious who he was talking to. No one instilled fear in this vicious beast except for Voldemort. What little blood I had left in my face drained out of it.

 _Fuck_.

"Gonna be honest with you, little Mudblood, 's not much time left, and I wouldn't bet a Knut on your life as soon as _He_ 's here. Those foul Death Eaters have kept you from me up until now, don't know why, didn't ask, but I deserve a finders reward and I'm sure _He_ doesn't mind if you're a bit... rumpled when he arrives here. 's hardly a loving environment you're in, is it." He laughed roaringly, a sound so disgusting it made me want to puke. Then his words got to me, and cold fear ran down my spine, reached for my heart. Fear I didn't think I could feel after _That Day. No, that can't be happening_ , panic started to arise, making my mind spin, _I can't endure that, too, no one can force me to, no one should live through- please please don't-_ And his laugh grew louder and louder, a wild howl that pierced through my ears.

"Fucking or killing, 'm never sure what to do first, but in your case, of course, killing ain't an option. You oughta be happy, really, you insolent wench. Besides, I have grown quite fond of your little temper, been watching your torture. Quite unusual how long you could withstand that woman, a beautiful sight, really..." he licked his lips eagerly and stepped closer.

His body was now pressed against mine, his nauseating smell making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, my panic made me unfreeze, and I started to struggle. His closeness made it hard to move, but I tried kicking him, tried to get my wrists free, in vain. "Get away from me, you fucking monster," I screamed and tried to scratch him or hit him, but his grip on me only tightened and if anything, my resistance seemed to delight him. "Now that's what I'm talking about," he groaned, and then he stepped back, but before I could feel relief over it, he slashed my dress open with his claws and the hate and humiliation I felt were overwhelming now, letting some blood flow back into my cheeks and tears rise in the corners of my eyes. He was ogling my exposed body, his revolting face now warped by greed and lust and hunger.

"Well I normally like them with a bit of meat on the bones, but I can hardly blame you for that, righ'?" he laughed and stepped closer. His one hand was still holding my wrists in an unbreakable grip, and struggle as I might, he still lifted them above my hand and started tracing my breasts with his other hand, leaving angry red marks. "Have had worse, that's for sure," he moaned appreciatively and I once again intensified my struggles. He was now _crushing_ me with his body, and with horror I noticed his hardness between my legs, eagerly pressed against me. Then his hand wandered downwards, finally settling in between my legs, and my mind went blank. There was only so much I could handle. Tears were silently falling out of my eyes now.

"Have been teasing me long enough, Mudblood whore," he muttered, his voice little more than a wolfish growl. His hand left me for a second, and from far away I heard the sound of cloth falling down on the floor, and then I felt his naked crotch pressed against me, heard his deafening groan in my hear, felt his hot breath on my neck and then he _bit_ me, hard, and suddenly I came to life again and started screaming, "NO! LET GO OF ME NOW!" and in my head, too: _No, no, please, don't do this, **NOOOOOOOO** -_

And then, a loud bang, hot light emerging from my body and Greyback was sent flying straight to the room, crashing against the wall with a lovely **Crack**! leaving me alone in the corner, a bit dizzy and panting. I quickly shot a glance to the door, it was closed. _So it really was me_ , I thought in amazement.

Even through my dazedness, I realised I didn't have much time, and I quickly walked over to Greyback, who had slumped against the wall, a big, painful looking burn wound stretching from his rips to his left leg. Who would have thought I still had a smile in me?

With trained movements I started searching his unconscious body and cried out in triumph when I found his wand in one of his pockets. After weeks without a wand, it felt like I had regained a part of my body. I tentatively flicked it, and sparks shot out of its tip. The wand felt inflexible and dull, but it worked and I laughed for the first time in weeks, though it wasn't the happy kind of laugh and it sounded eerie and in my ears. I cast a _Reparo_ at my torn dress and started healing some of my wounds. I needed to get some of my force back, or I'd lose the advantage I had so miraculously gained. What worried me deeply was the wound that filthy beast had left on my neck. I knew it wouldn't turn me into a werewolf, he was human right now after all ( _barely human_ , I thought to myself), but I also knew that a werewolf wound wasn't to be taken lightly. It would leave an ugly scar and only time would tell how it would affect me. I forced my thoughts back to Greyback.

I looked at the repulsive creature lying at my feet. I couldn't quite grasp what fate I had narrowly escaped just now. Lupin's words came to my mind. "Greyback specialises in children... Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards." A dark fog started setting over my mind, streaming out of the basement of my palace until it had completely engulfed my thoughts.

Somewhere, I heard a cold voice utter unforgivable words.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

And when the fog lifted again, Greyback was dead.

I didn't allow myself to miss a beat. I had to hurry now if I wanted to make it out of here. I hurried into the corner that was invisible when you entered the room. I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself.

And then I started waiting.


	11. Family Traditions

Chapter 11 – Family Traditions

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My heart beat with the might of war drums, leaving me nervous that I wouldn't actually hear the steps I was anxiously awaiting, but my worries turned out to be unnecessary. I don't know who I had hoped to enter my cell. Narcissa Malfoy would be easiest to overcome, but she also was the weakest link in the chain, and besides, I didn't really hate her. I still would have fought her without a second thought if the need arose, but so far she hadn't done me much harm. Lucius Malfoy was a different matter entirely. Having him out of my way would be a big relief and a great pleasure at that. Then again, he was a strong opponent and no matter how much I despised him, I wouldn't commit the idiocy of underestimating my enemies. Bellatrix Lestrange naturally was the person I would most enjoy to make suffer, but she was a bit of a wild card. Her sheer evilness and insanity made every fight with her unpredictable, and a part of me still understood that the satisfaction of wreaking vengeance on her was secondary to the succeeding of my plan.

So I was a bit stuck between a rock and a hard place, but life hadn't exactly been a trip to Hogsmeade lately anyway.

When I finally heard someone approach my chamber, I tensed up and raised my newly acquired wand up to my eyes. _Constant vigilance!_ I thought, and I would need it, too. For the first time in a week, Malfoy had decided to come visit me. _Or to come and get me_ , I thought, remembering the dead werewolf's words. I really had to get out of here.

The door opened.

I had carefully arranged the corpse of Greyback, and sure enough the elder Malfoy immediately approached the dead body with a suppressed hiss. It provided a mere moment of distraction, I quickly executed the plan I had gone over again and again as I had waited. First, a silently cast _Silencio_ , just in case. Then immediately after that, _Imperio_. There was no time for qualms and games. The tall man had quickly turned around to me after I had cast the first spell and had lifted his wand, but he had been too late and didn't even manage to raise his shield. In the dim light of the chamber I could barely see his face, but I saw enough to recognize that it didn't have the expression of blissful contentment my curse should have left. There was great tension in it, he was fighting subjugation with all his might. I had assumed that a simple _Imperio_ wouldn't be enough for someone who had been taking his afternoon tea with Voldemort himself ever since he'd hit puberty.

I pointed my wand at him and with a silent _Crucio_ , his tensed face contorted with pain, a silent scream on his lips as he was engulfed in red light. I wasn't doing this out of sheer pleasure, even though I must admit that it felt lovely seeing a hint of the pain I had endured over the last weeks to grace his aristocratic face. I felt a small smile tuck at the corners of my mouth.

I couldn't allow myself to get distracted, though. I was trying to weaken his mind enough to make him receptive to my Imperius Curse, and I had no time to lose. I made him silently scream, again and again, and I have to admit I was kind of impressed with the lack of fear in his eyes, though he didn't look calm by any means either. I fired Cruciatus Curse after Cruciatus Curse until I saw deep lines of exhaustion forming on his face. It was then that I tried _Imperio_ once again, this time with the anticipated success. His face became smooth and relaxed. I commanded him to hand me his wand, which I carefully stored in a holster I had conjured, then I let him lead the way, out of my cell, through the corridors of Malfoy Manor. I amplified the Disillusionment Charm on myself with a Silencing Charm and _Avertus_ , that made me temporarily disappear from the mind of others.

Lucius Malfoy strode confidently through the hallways and a number of parlours, myself following him invisibly and utterly quiet. We met Bellatrix on our way to the exit, which made my heart beat furiously. I had to hold myself back from both bolting away and hexing her to the end of time. But my Distraction Charm seemed to work well, because after a bit of excited chatter about the imminent arrival of her beloved Dark Lord and wondering whether he would allow her yet another few days of fun with the Mudblood (e _asy, Hermione, you've come too far and she's not worth it_ ) she sashayed away, a dissonant tune on her lips. _We'll meet again_ , I promised silently, _and I'll make that unpleasant voice of yours beg for mercy._

Finally and without further interruptions, Lucius Malfoy and I stepped through the entrance hall into the garden of Malfoy Manor, a charming refuge that was much too beautiful for the monster that inhabited it.

I decided against escaping through the main entrance. Too much of a risk, and the less people saw Malfoy, the better. We walked towards the forest that bordered their property and looked just as dark and gloomy as the Forbidden Forest to me, right now.

We walked a while until I was sure we were outside the Anti-Apparition Wards. I turned to Malfoy. My plan ended here, and I had initially considered it a stretch hoping I'd even come so far. I thought about disposing of him, but it seemed neither right nor fun killing someone under the influence of the Imperius Curse, and lifting it was too risky. I thought about Obliviating him, but a part of me wanted him to _remember_ his failure that he would undoubtedly have to share with his snake eyed master. Lucius Malfoy would be punished, he'd suffer terribly, and that thought was lovely enough to choose the third option: I'd leave him here, lost and confused. I had his wand safely stored in my holster anyway.

I allowed myself one last pleasure before leaving this place for good. I stepped right in front of Malfoy, who looked down at me with a smooth, relaxed face and soft eyes. _How strange, seeing him like this_ , I thought. I would have preferred his face to be the loathsome cold mask I was used to for what followed next. I raised my hand, clenched my fist and punched him as hard as I could, leaving a trace of blood on his mouth and my hand, kind of like in my dreams. _My, this is becoming a family tradition,_ I chuckled bemusedly. _Let's just hope Narcissa doesn't insist on becoming part of it, too, 'cause I really can't afford to go around and punch wizard nobility all day long._

With a last glance toward the droplets of blood that contrasted quite beautifully with his pale skin, I turned around to Disapparate and never come back. The magic started to forcefully tug at me as relief made its way through my stomach, my veins, my eyes and then I saw the scenery in front of me disappear, just as I felt a strong hand grip my arm tightly.


	12. In the Pines, in the Pines

**New and old artwork for this and all of my future stories to be found on: thestormreaper dot deviantart dot com. Do pay a visit!**

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Chapter 12 – In the Pines, in the Pines

* * *

The forest of Malfoy Manor dissolved into another forest in the north of Scotland, where I had briefly stayed with Harry and- Where I had briefly stayed a month ago. But I didn't have time to look at my surroundings. I immediately took shelter behind a large tree, not a second too early because I felt the swish of a punch narrowly miss me. I whirled around, only to find a blur of black and white hurling itself at me, and with a painful **thump** I was thrown down. I instinctively moved my head to the side and yet another forceful blow missed me. Lucius Malfoy was now kneeling on top of me, his face distorted in anger, his body tensed and his hands shooting toward my throat. I didn't have the freedom of movement to get out of his way, now, and for the second time he was choking me, this time furiously, the intent to kill written all over his face. I struggled fruitlessly – he was a great bit taller and stronger than me, as well as in a favourable position.

But the torture and constant fear of the past weeks had made me desperate and reckless, and I had come too far to give up now. I would rather die than go back, and I'd rather kill than die. With his hands around my throat, he had left my arms free, and my fingers shot up to his contorted face, aiming for his eyes. He barely got his eyes out of the way of my hands, but I heard him hiss as I scratched his face, tearing his skin open. His rash movement and the pain distracted him enough for me to land another hard blow in his face, and as his balance shifted away from me. I managed to break free. Within a split second I had crawled out of his reach, turned around and yelled: " _PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!_ " and like this, the fight was over.

It still kind of left me with the problem that I had an unwanted prisoner to take care of, now, one I could hardly send back or leave to himself. _As if I haven't had my fair share of Malfoy already_ , I thought, more than annoyed.

On the other hand side, there were certain vantages to a wandless hostage. He was lying at my feet now, an image I quite happily recognized from countless daydreams. I would have been ovejoyed to never have to see his arrogant face again, but as I saw him bound on the floor, with the blood on his face a glorious reminder on the punches I had landed, I couldn't help to think that this might not be half bad.

"For a prejudiced Pureblood supremacist you're sure keen on spending time with me, Malfoy," I stated drily. As he opened his mouth for some hateful remark or another, I quickly cast a Silencing Charm at him.

"I don't think so, you annoying inbred bastard. I believe I have endured enough of your conversation skills and... hospitality over the last weeks. I think it's high time I return the favour, don't you agree?" and I kicked him into the ribs with full force, again and again until I felt satisfied. I quickly healed his broken bones. He would slow me down if he was injured, so for now I had to take a minimum of care of his physical state.

"I'd rather take a Hungarian Horntail out for a walk than be stuck with you, but do try to not make this unnecessarily unpleasant, will you?" I added, conjuring a rope that I bound tightly around his hands and torso, leaving him in a kind of straitjacket. I lifted the Body-Bind Curse, but kept the Silencing Charm. I could see his lips moving, no doubt spouting some profanity or another at me. I didn't really care anymore.

With him at the tip of my wand, always where I could see him, I started walking through the forest in silence, always watching my surroundings carefully, listening for the tiniest of sounds. I had to find shelter, soon. I was lucky to have made it so far, but I was still extremely weak. I had to eat something, too, and my ragged dress was hardly covering me from the cold winds that crept through the trees. Soon I found a small abandoned stone cave, where I guess some large animal had lived, judging from the little skulls and bones lying around in the corners. It was hardly a welcoming place, but it had to do for now. The sun was slowly setting and I needed to find some food.

I quickly went over my usual cluster of Wards and Protection Spells, adding a strong barrier to the entrance and another set of tight ropes to Malfoy's feet, just to be sure. Then I left.

* * *

I returned an hour later with a rabbit I had killed and a couple of roots I had managed to find. Hardly a full meal, but I was already starting to falter in my steps. Malfoy had looked at me when I had returned, half expectantly, half frowning, but he had stopped to move his lips and his face was once again controlled and stand-offish. I lifted the Silencing Charm and shot him a last warning glance before turning away from him to sit down.

With a flick of my wand I conjured a knife and started skinning and gutting the meagre rabbit, I didn't quite trust myself with Slicing Spells right now. My hands were shaking and I could hardly concentrate. In the end though I was successful, and conjured a small fire over which I had impaled the poor rabbit.

I looked up to find Malfoy looking at me, with a sightly raised eyebrow, something like disbelief hidden behind his neutral expression. I realized then I had made a bit of a mess of myself, my hands and arms soaked in blood ( _how can such a miserable little rabbit contain so much blood_ , I wondered) and a fair share of it had splattered on my face, mixing with the still-fresh blood of the fight and the torture. I had developed quite the casual relationship with blood and gore.

Without really feeling like it, I cast a wide grin in Malfoy's direction that was part warning, part threat and part promise. His eyes seemed to widen for a split second, then he was back to his usual self, but I was confident he had understood me perfectly well.

We shared our meal in silence.

* * *

Only when I lay in my uncomfortable, makeshift bed, pressed against the wall as far away from my safely restricted prisoner as possible in the small space we shared, the events of the day started to set in, and I began to tremble from a cold no Hot-Air Charm could diffuse.


	13. The Reciprocity of the Tormented

**Know what makes the heart grow fonder? Reviews. They do.**

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Chapter 13 – The Reciprocity of the Tormented

* * *

I had slept terribly, waking up from any kind of noise or wisp of wind and tormented by nightmares of _That Day_ , only this time Greyback stood behind me, laughing, and it was me who cast the Killing Curse. The sun had only just begun to rise and I kept my eyes shut just a moment longer to avoid the staggering headache the sunlight would undoubtedly cause me, when I heard a slight shift beside me, and then again. My grip around the wand I kept in my hand even as I slept tightened, as I lazily opened my eyes to find Malfoy slowly crawling in my direction. I could have easily cast another _Petrificus Totalus_ at him. Still.

"Crucio," I said, my voice ever so hoarse from all the screaming I had done and still unused to speaking again. Malfoy could sure handle his Unforgivables, I had to hand him that. No tears, no begging. But the screams still pierced through the idyllic morning calm. A bit bothersome, but in a way it was a nice sound to wake up to. I idly held the curse for a while, then I just stopped and cast Malfoy a disappointed glance. Couldn't really fault him for trying, though, I guessed. I'd have probably done the same thing. His face briefly mirrored the same strange mixture of hatred and understanding that I felt. _How curious,_ I thought, and left it at that.

I went off to find some breakfast and returned a while later with a handful of nuts and berries. I had been lucky to even find these at this time of the year and regretfully shared them with the pale wizard. It was a bit awkward feeding him, but I wasn't gonna take his fetters off after what happened earlier. It must have cost Malfoy a great deal overcoming his pride to let himself be fed by a _Mudblood_ , but he seemed to have the same determination that had kept me alive when all there was to live for had been vengeance. _Oh boy, next thing he'll tell me he has a parent induced knack for dental hygiene and we'll hold hands in the moonlight_. I briefly thought about his teeth that were indeed immaculate and shuddered.

I felt a bit restless without the purpose that had kept me on the run for the past months, but even though I felt wrung out and hollow there were still a few things I didn't know and my thirst for knowledge seemed the only thing that kept me going at the moment.

"So, listen," I said, breaking the silent abruptly. "There are a few things that still aren't quite clear to me. I understand something has happened involving your prisoners. Greyback," here a bit of curiousness and disgust blinked in Malfoy's eyes, "told me you have decided to call the Dar- Voldemort, so you have either discovered something regarding Harry or someone has managed to escape. Is that correct?"

Malfoy didn't react to my question but instead mustered me with a scrutinizing look, so I went on.

"Of course there are Anti-Apparition Wards all over your _home,_ so there is no way someone could Disapparate and I doubt you'd just leave the door open. And unless that degenerate beast has an equally idiot brother with a penchant for hexed faces, there is only one more option I could come up with. How, would you say, is your relationship with Dobby these days?"

There was the slightest motion to his face, one I'd surely never have seen if I hadn't spent time and time again watching this face as I was being tortured and then going over every detail, every weakness of its bearer again in the darkness of my chamber. But it was enough for me.

"Please do share what you know, won't you?" I tried to bring a bit of life into my dead voice, to sound just as convincing and seductive as he had when questioning me, failing miserably. I guess I couldn't compete with the every so charming Malfoy in that regard. _Cunning snake_ , I thought angrily.

"Malfoy, I _will_ find out what happened. You _are_ kind of stuck with me, and I have no qualms about _Crucioing_ you to hell and back."

"That much I've gathered," he replied drily. "If it wasn't for your... unfortunate birth you'd have made a decent Death Eater."

He was probably trying to rile me up, but somehow his comment didn't affect me the way it would have done mere weeks ago. I had tried to avoid thinking about the obvious changes I had undergone, but it was clear I was hardly in the place to be self-righteous anymore, and I didn't really care about good or bad. All I cared about right now was knowledge.

"Such high praise from you, Mr. Malfoy. And I will make sure to live up to it, too, if you insist."

He just stared at me, and part of me would have been disappointed if he had made it that easy. I didn't cast a Silencing Charm on Lucius Malfoy this time, just a _muffliato_ to make sure no sound would leave this cave. It promised to be an interesting day for once.

* * *

One or two hours later, both Malfoy and I were covered in sweat, panting, our faces an obvious display of our emotions: pain, exhaustion, distaste and something I couldn't quite place in his face and gratification, frustration, exhaustion and bitter joy at the same time in mine. It was only fair Malfoy wouldn't cave in, just as I hadn't, and since I got my chance to pay him back, he would have been a fool not to use his. Still, it irked me to be left in the dark, and I had one crucial advantage: he had needed to keep me more or less in one piece for his precious master. I was slave to none and didn't really _need_ Malfoy, much less in one piece. _Time to sing a different tune_ , I thought, and hoped his own medicine tasted just as bitter to him as it had to me.

"Well, this was fun, but quite honestly, you're starting to bore me. I have already connected most of the dots, I would think, so all I really need from you are confirmation and details. Is that so much to ask for?" I sighed.

The dishevelled wizard glanced at me for a moment, still panting, his face mostly under his control now but still showing obvious signs of exhaustion. His look was calculating and pensive. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Opened it again:

"Bitch."

"Very well, " I said. I freed one of his hands from the tight ropes that looped around him. _Should have learned Legilimency, too, while I was at it,_ but back then it had seemed _wrong_ to me to enter someone's mind forcefully. Didn't seem so wrong now, compared to what I had resorted to. Malfoy observed my doings curiously and slightly alarmed.

"I understand you are quite used to torture by now, but couldn't help to observe that you have still made it through two Wizarding Wars overall unharmed. Kind of unfair, if you think about poor Mad E-uh, I mean Alastor Moody, isn't it?" Malfoy looked quite disturbed by now.

"So listen carefully, 'cause I'm going to tell you only once. I will **tear. you. apart.** Just as you did to me. I'll start with your fingers. After that I'll take care of your other hand. Then I'll cut off your feet and maybe your ears, too, since you seem so unwilling to listen. I won't stop until you look like the rabbit you seemed so fascinated by yesterday, unless you stop me, of course. Got that?"

If possible, Malfoy had blanched even more, and if I hadn't been holding his wrist as I spoke, I might have mistaken him for a ghost. But he pressed his lips together and remained silent.

* * *

I'm not sure if he hadn't believed I'd stay true to my words. His screams were almost deafening as I had started to cut off the fourth finger on his wand hand and he'd finally caved in, pale as death and bleeding. He was covered in blood and sweat now, panting so heavily it was hard to understand his words.

He told me that one day, they had heard a commotion from downstairs and sent Pettigrew to check on the prisoners.

"What prisoners exactly?" I asked sharply.

"Garrick Ollivander, the wandmaker. Two Hogwarts students called Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas. A Goblin named Griphook. And that boy who was or was not Harry Potter." He seemed to have a hard time talking.

Apparently that treacherous rat Pettigrew hadn't come back, and as the elder Malfoy had walked down to check on the prisoners, there had only been Pettigrew's dead body and Harry left, and a fight had ensued. It was soon interrupted by the Apparition of Dobby – _I knew it_ , I thought, strangely emotionally detached from the story, as if it was nothing more than a riddle I had managed to solve correctly. Dobby had taken Harry's arm and Disapparated, but not before Malfoy had managed to hit them with a dark and deadly curse, as he added, apparently pleased with himself.

"What do you mean, _them_?" I asked, my voice a pitch higher than before. "Are you sure you hit someone? Which one was it, then? Are they dead? Did you _watch_ someone die?"

But he offered me no answer, and it was obvious he didn't know, either. My mind was racing and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, but it felt a bit like a sad imitation what I was _supposed_ to feel, and it left me quite confused.

"Is that all you know?" I asked Malfoy. He weakly returned my stare and then slightly nodded. He was speaking the truth, I was sure. I thought briefly about letting him bleed to death, but for whatever reason decided against it.

With a series of complicated movements, I re-attached all but one of his fingers (his ring finger, because it seemed to make sense somehow) and healed the wound so it wouldn't get infected. I didn't even bother to _Scourgify_ the blood away.

With an exhausted sigh, I sunk down next to Malfoy who was leaning against the wall of the cave, looking more dead than alive.

"Well," I said, and traced his injured hand, almost gently, with my finger. "Was that so hard?"

He shot me a wary glance, but didn't manage to don the hateful expression that I was used to.

I wondered what we'd eat for dinner.


	14. Discoveries of Light and Darkness

Chapter 14 – Discoveries of Light and Darkness

* * *

We stayed in the cave two more days, mostly spent in silence. Malfoy had been too weak to try anything for a good while, and he probably knew I was waiting for him to give me a reason to hex him. One night I had dreamt about this strange, changed version of _That Day_ , this time Greyback had pressed himself against my back as I tortured and killed... _Ron_ , his arms wrapped around me and his hands roughly caressing my breasts. I had woken up covered in sweat and with a scream - fresh scratches underneath my dress ( _had that been me?_ ) and in a moment of cold hatred and still caught within the nightmare, I had thrown myself at Malfoy, who had been woken up by my scream, intent on choking him with my bare hands. He was to blame I had turned into whatever it was that _I_ was, now, his fault I had allowed myself to become entangled in the same Dark Magic that he had used to rip my heart out.

But as he lay there, no sign of resistance or struggling, with his emotionless eyes fixed on mine, the fog had lifted from my mind and I had slowly taken my hands away from his throat to wipe away my tears. But when I touched my face I found that my eyes were completely dry. I went back into my corner of the cave. No word had had been spoken.

I hadn't suffered any more nightmares after that.

* * *

On the third day, I had gone out to find food and quickly returned to the cave as I heard voices coming closer.

"There are people in the forest, " I curtly informed Malfoy. "We have to move on."

I made any proof of our stay here disappear. Then I helped Malfoy stand up and lifted all Wards I had cast onto the cave.

"Ready?" I asked, but it was a signal, not a question, and surprisingly, Malfoy wordlessly leaned into me. I took his arm and we Disapparated.

Our next stay was in the middle of a swamp, surrounded by old, overgrown trees that had grown so densely that they let close to no daylight through. Inside was an old, abandoned hut in which some hag must have lived maybe a century ago. There was an ancient looking cauldron and some dusty books left that had survived the years in one piece. The roof was half destroyed and the floor full of clutter and leaves. There were some dried herbs hanging from the ceiling in a somewhat intact corner, as well as some Potion Ingredients in a slanted cupboard. All in all, it wasn't bad. Especially the books were a pleasant surprise. I raised the usual Wards, and cast a few _Reparo_ and _Scourgify_ Spells left and right until the hut was in an inhabitable condition. Then, I manoeuvred my still surprisingly compliant prisoner towards the bed. After a long, calculating look, I made the ropes around his torso disappear and the ones around his arms and legs a tiny bit looser . He immediately relaxed and I could have sworn I heard a faint moan.

I wandered off and managed to catch some fish, collect a few edible herbs and some berries – more than I had found the last two days. Perhaps soon I could try and look for some small Muggle village to steal us something more nutritious, and I really needed to find myself new clothes (in reality, Malfoy needed outdoor robes as well, but it wasn't that high on my agenda right now). I wondered if it would be possible, and safe, to visit Diagon Alley (well-disguised, of course). _It's definitely worth a thought,_ I decided when I returned to the hut with a now wet dress that barely protected me from the chillier winds. I meticulously prepared the food and handed Malfoy his share – he could eat independently now, which was as much of a relieve to him as it was to me.

There wasn't much to do now, so I sprawled out in a dusty armchair, carefully removing splinters and cobweb first, and reached over to the bookcase. My eyes widened in disbelief and I loudly gasped as I read the title of the book I had picked: **Of Discov'ries of Dunnest** **Nature** by Herpo the Foul, which was not only incredibly rare but also _incredibly_ dark and illegal.

The thought to put it away or dispose of it didn't even cross my mind. I wondered what kind of witch had lived here before I began tediously working my way through the outdated language and the yellowed pages which were half filled with very complicated descriptions of very, very dark magic and half filled with, let's be honest here, confused rants. This was different from what I was used to read, there were quite a few words I didn't understand, some references to Curses and Rituals I had never heard of. This was Magic at its most vile, one could be sent to Azkaban even for _talking_ about it. _Well, not currently, I guess_. Still, there was too much that didn't make any sense to me to just ignore it. With a sigh, I turned to Malfoy.

"Malfoy," I said calmly, trying myself at a friendly smile that didn't quite convince me, but it had to do. "What could a proud descendent of the Noble House of Malfoy such as yourself-" he sceptically raised an eyebrow at that- "tell me about the Cold-Blooded Curse?"

Now it was his turn to stare at me with wide eyes and he didn't even try to conceal his disbelief as he recognized the book I was reading.

It took him a while, but after a few moments he went back to his usual arrogant self, his eyes looking a bit darker than usually, his lips a bit thinner. He scowled at me and, with a voice as cold as ice, said: "That is unbelievably ancient knowledge that has been passed on carefully from generation to generation to only the worthiest and strongest wizards and witches of the most noble of Pureblood Houses, you ignorant woman, and you ask me to just tell _you_ about it?" He snorted angrily.

When he had told me I could have been a Death Eater if not for my parentage, it had left me completely cold, but at his condescending words I snapped. My hunger for knowledge was the only part of me that had really survived the days of loss and torture and fear, it was all I had now, I had clung desperately to it and now this arrogant bastard who had taken _everything_ away from me _dared_ to deny me this, too? Who did he believe himself to be, talking about worthiness, talking about _strength_ , when he was my prisoner, at my will and mercy? When I had defied him repeatedly, had made him scream, had made him _fear_ me?

I felt my face harden into a cruel mask and then I started hurling Curses at him, Slicing Curses, Whipping Curses, I made him burn and I made him freeze and I made him scream under my Cruciatus Curse.

"How _dare_ you fucking call me unworthy after everything I have endured?" I screamed mindlessly at him. "Do you forget I have defeated you _and_ that horrendous beast Greyback?" And I hurled another Slicing Curse at him, leaving a gash on his cheek. "What is your oh so noble heritage worth here in the _swamps_ , you _inbred arse-hole_? What is the worth of your precious pure blood when a _Mudblood_ half your age can subdue you?"

I tossed a last Slicing Spell at him, leaving a cut on his freshly healed hand. Slowly I calmed down, kind of only now realizing Malfoy's state. He was covered with cuts and bruises and burn wounds, parts of his clothes hanging down from him in bloody shreds, his face white and his lips sore from the screaming.

I silently walked over to him. He flinched as I lifted my wand, but instead I began quietly healing the wounds I had inflicted on him, all the while never looking away from the grey orbs that were in turn gazing at me, exhaustion and wariness mixed with something I couldn't quite name in them. I conjured a rag to wipe some of the blood and sweat off his face and his arms gently. I couldn't use a Cleaning Charm on him, or I'd risk tearing his still-fresh wounds open again.

After I had stitched him together the best I could, I stared at him a while longer, lost in thoughts and free from hate and anger once again.

I had placed my hand on his freshly re-injured one, the blood dripping out of his new wound, effortlessly blending with my own that was escaping from an old wound that had torn open as I had raged.

Finally, after what could have been a few seconds or a few minutes, I spoke.

"I'm not weak," I said softly, but firmly.

And as he still gazed at me, his eyes never leaving mine, no sympathy in his face and no contempt either, he whispered so faintly that I almost couldn't hear him.

"No," he murmured.

"You're not."


	15. Life in the Swamps

Chapter 15 – Life in the Swamps

* * *

The following days were spent in a weirdly peaceful manner. The hut had proved to be an excellent choice – the swamp was so wild and remote no one should enter it by accident. Many of the ingredients in the old cupboard were still usable and I found a ton of rare and potent herbs and berries in the fenland. It still wouldn't have been my first choice living like this but it wasn't as if I was spending my vacation here, anyway.

I managed to brew up a couple of potions, nothing too complicated or potent but a nice emergency stock of Healing Potion, Blood-Replenishing Potion, a basic Mandrake-based Antidote, Burn-healing paste and Dittany Essence. They wouldn't be of much use if, say, Voldemort decided to pay us a visit, but Profe... Snape hadn't told us how to put a stopper on death yet, anyway, and I felt a lot safer with part of my basic stock restored.

When I wasn't brewing or exploring the surroundings or on the lookout for food, I sat in what I had declared to be _my_ armchair, reading book after book. Most of them were dark in nature, with varying degrees of illegality, some just spoke about very archaic and partially primitive magic. **Of Discov'ries of Dunnest Nature** was definitely the most forbidden and complicated of them, so I decided to tackle some of the more basic tomes first, hoping they'd provide a sufficient introduction. I hadn't felt a lot, safe for short moments of burning hatred ever since my imprisonment. Much of me had been left to die in that dark cell, and the rare visits I paid my mind palace revealed an unwelcoming, dark fortress, with many hallways and rooms completely in ruins, whole parts of the building destroyed or inaccessible. But my curiosity was stronger than ever, perhaps heightened by the absence of other feelings in the same way blindness can sharpen your other senses. Books made my hard beat faster, coming across an unknown Spell or Curse or finding some obscure fact made the faintest hint of blood rush to my cheeks.

As I would read book after book, I'd occasionally ask Malfoy for clarifications on one thing or another. I had to admit he possessed impressing knowledge of the Dark Arts and Old Magic. Sometimes, as he'd explain some bit of complicated Magic impassibly but in a precise and enlightening manner, it would let me get a brief and curious glimpse of another side of the elder wizard in front of me. I'd stop seeing the cruel tyrant I despised and instead found a beautiful remnant of ancient magic, of the old times of might and wisdom. They were only glimpses and didn't really change my feelings about the pale wizard, but I'd be lying if I said they weren't immensely intriguing as well.

* * *

I learned quite a bit about Blood Magic, which was naturally not covered in the Hogwarts curriculum. It was a fascinating branch of the Dark Arts, if a bit crude for my tastes, and not to be overlooked mindlessly. Especially after Voldemort had used it quite effectively when he had restored his body with Harry's blood, eliminating one of his biggest weaknesses and strengthening their mysterious connection at the same time.

I found out about some fascinating Poisons, too – that being a part of Potion Brewing that I had neglected up until then. Malfoy did provide me with some staggeringly detailed descriptions about the effects of certain obscure Poisons, no doubt brewed and tested on unwilling subjects by The Man himself. I didn't really care about that though, and intently listened to his meticulous descriptions instead. I found myself immensely amused by the description of the Solo Speculo Poison, that made the victim feel all pain the brewer of the Solo Speculo suffered doubly intensified. Malfoy had once tested it on some bothersome social climber from the Ministry of Magic, and all he had needed to do after that is rile the young man up enough to attack him, leaving it to him to provide his own torture. In the end the young man had been arrested and sent to Azkaban for attacking Malfoy, even though in reality he suffered far more under his own spells. It was cruel, yes, still I couldn't help but admire that masterfully executed and _beautiful_ example of skilful cruelty and Magic. I eagerly hung on his every word as he described his diligent, elaborate studies and experiments and I saw his lips briefly curl upwards more than once, even caught him regarding me inquisitively while I was reading, a couple of times.

Me, being the Mudblood he loathed _as well_ as a naturally detested Gryffindor, _as well_ as one of his main enemies in the current Wizarding wars. Not to speak of the fact I was, in his eyes, his inexperienced Younger and sworn enemy of his son, who I had punched and helped free the Hippogriff who had attacked him amongst other things – my, one could think I had made it my purpose in life to cross him in every way possible. Seeing me zealously learning about the Dark Arts and greedily listen to his descriptions of torture and highly illegal activities must have done a number to his head.

* * *

From time to time I tried a bit of what I read about in the books on an unsuspecting bird or squirrel or plant. Nothing too cruel, but not really nice either. I didn't care much for making animals suffer, but mastering these new kinds of Magic gave me a delightful sense of accomplishment and control.

Sometimes, in the evenings Malfoy and I would sit together in silence, a small fire in the middle of the hut casting eerie shadows on our faces and the walls around us. I was usually lost in thoughts, processing whatever I had learned during the day, and Merlin knows what went through his mind as he didn't have much else to do other than thinking.

One evening I was wondering about what would happen if you combined a Magic-Blocking Curse and the Arranhando Magia Poison, that used a wizard's own magic to attack and ultimately kill him. Would they cancel each other out, prolong the suffering of the victim or make him die on the spot? I couldn't quite reach a conclusion, so I just worded my question calmly at Malfoy.

His face went from disdain to a pensive look.

"That _is_ an interesting thought," he admitted begrudgingly. After a short while of silence he added: "I have never read about this specific combination or tried it myself. One might consider the case of Osborn the Thoroughly Tattered..." and with that, we smoothly glided into a calm discussion, both saying only the necessary and carefully considering the arguments each of us brought to the table. We didn't reach a definite conclusion, but Malfoy proved to be a surprisingly thoughtful and well-educated, not least intelligent discussion partner. After we had considered all there was to consider, baring all the knowledge each of us could contribute, we returned to our usual silent coexistence, and now the silence seemed weirdly satiated.

After that, I started voicing my thoughts to him from time to time, learning even more from our sophisticated discussions than I did from the occasional clarifications I'd still demand from him. We weren't exactly friendly, but we seemed to have reached kind of a truce, suspiciously eyeing each other like two predatory animals, torn between caution and fascination and the urge to eliminate any threat the other might pose.

* * *

One of these nights I dreamed my usual dream again, but this time I was in the drawing room, Greyback cowering in pain, screaming as he lay at my feet and I tortured him, while Malfoy stood at my side, his hand on my shoulder, a slight smile on his lips.

 _How curious._


	16. The Ruthless Cruelty of Justice

Chapter 16 – The Ruthless Cruelty of Justice

* * *

We had been living in the swamps for a little more than a week, and I was getting nervous. No one would stumble into our hut by accident, but there were Snatchers and Death Eaters all over the country and I didn't know how reliable my Anti-Detection Charms were on the long run. We'd have to move on, soon, even though I was a bit reluctant to leave this place.

Malfoy and I had developed a cold but respectful relationship, knowing that for the better or the worse, we were stuck with each other. We didn't hide our mutual dislike, still I couldn't help but respect his mind and wits and skills, and I suspected he was feeling similarly about me, if a bit more torn inside. I had never thought him beneath me, after all. I had hated him and fiercely disagreed with everything he believed in, had sworn to fight everything he stood for, but I had never doubted him as a wizard, while the opposite couldn't be said about him.

* * *

During one of my rambles in the area, I came across a group of wizards and witches, obviously harmless ones. They were probably on some kind of excursion of academic nature, as they had a number of bags and magical apparatuses with them. I thought about retreating, but quickly changed my mind. This was an opportunity I might not come across again in the foreseeable future. I carefully Disillusioned myself, put a Silencio on my feet and added a Charm that suppressed my Magical Aura, then I started quietly stalking them. I couldn't make much sense of what they were saying, most of it apparently concerning mutual acquaintances of theirs or work problems. They talked about the plants of the region admiringly, praising the richness of the soil in these parts, so they were probably Herbologists. Eventually, they made camp between a set of tall trees, depositing most of their luggage and securing it with a number of Protective Spells. After a few minutes of organising their possessions and gathering their instruments, they wandered off. I couldn't help but internally reprimand them for their carelessness, even though I tried to remind myself that not everyone had spent a good part of their year on the run from Death Eaters, Snatchers, werewolves and the most dangerous Dark Wizard of all time.

After making sure they were out of reach, I quickly dismantled their Charms and Wards, briefly searched their bags and took two of them with me, one containing clothes and a number of articles of daily use, the other containing food supplies. I shrunk them so I could easily take them with me, put the Protective Spells back in place and Disapparated back into the swamp.

I was in a good mood, kind of looking forward to sharing my findings with Malfoy, even. It had been a successful day.

I entered the hut, Malfoy sitting on the bed as usual, looking expectantly at me and then curiously as he noticed the bags I had brought with me. Curtly I told him about the group of wizards I had encountered. Immediately, I returned the bags to their usual size and started unpacking the food, casting Preservation Charms on it so it wouldn't spoil, then neatly arranging it on the table next to the cauldron.

Next, I went through the clothes. Some of them were useless to me, either incredibly wide or men's robes or too impractical, but there was a simple dark robe, tight at the top so it wouldn't get caught with something and with a wide skirt so I would be able to move freely. It was cotton lined and had a few leathern sachets attached in easy-to-reach places. _Perfect_. I sighed with pleasure and quickly freed myself from my ragged dress to put on this much more appropriate robe. Only when I smoothed out the creases in the skirt did I notice the elder wizard staring at me with slightly widened eyes. Having spent weeks with him in which we had almost killed and committed everything imaginable atrocity in front of and against each other it hadn't occurred to me to make him turned around, hadn't occurred to me that he was a _man_ , after all. I had seen his ribs stick out through wounds I had inflicted upon him myself, yet somehow now I felt myself blushing slightly at my temporary... mindlessness. Quickly I averted my gaze and coughed.

There was another robe that looked like it could fit Malfoy. It was dark green, which was good, because it would make us harder to spot in a forest. Squirm as I might, it needed to be done, so I turned at the restricted man sitting on the bed, cleared my throat and said: "These robes should fit you and are more practical and... _intact_ than the ones you are currently wearing."

He arched an eyebrow, whether it was directed at the fact that it was _me_ who had reduced his clothes to their current state or asking me to get to the point, I didn't know.

"I don't really trust you without restrictions, Malfoy, I'm sure you understand..." I inhaled deeply. "If you wish to change clothes, you will have to allow me to help you with that."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between us. I could see him weigh the benefit of new, adequate robes against the displeasure of _me_ seeing him in an exposed state. In the end, his pragmatism seemed to have won. "You may help me change," he said reluctantly.

I helped him stand up and quickly rendered him immobile with a spell before making his ropes disappear. He intensely stared at the wall behind me, I in turn focused solely on my hands as I took his old robes off and unfolded the new ones. I still couldn't help to notice the multitude of silvery scars that marred his body, almost as many as I had, probably, and a good number of them directly caused by me. _What a sight we must be_ , I thought. Then: _How broken we are_. I swiftly looked back at the fresh robes as he caught me staring at him, focusing on the task, _right arm, left arm, head, torso... legs_ , all the while keeping my eyes safely set on his shoulder. Finally, as we were done, I reapplied the ropes and lifted the Body-Binding Spell, then helped him get back to the bed in the corner. As he sat down, we both let out a quiet, but relieved sigh.

I went back to searching my new treasures. There were a couple of useful things like combs, toothbrushes and bandages, even a few books. I also found a few issues of the **Daily Prophet**. It had been such a long time since I had read it, and even though I knew its journalists' integrity was poor at best, I was still hungry for news from the Outside World. I went over a number of obituaries, recognizing quite a few names – Irma Pince, the librarian, for example, and Lavender Brown, as well as Tom, the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron. _How unfortunate_ , I thought, a pang of regret making its way to my chest, but no real sadness. I just felt like there had been enough death already, and the Wizarding World I felt so at home in seemed to be decreasing every day.

Then, with a sharp hiss, in one of the more recent newspapers, I read: ' _Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy and matriarch to the Noble House of Malfoy, found dead'_ and, in smaller letters: ' _Lucius Malfoy is still nowhere to be found – is he a victim or a murderer?'_ There wasn't much more useful information, but the author of the article strongly implied Malfoy was the suspected murderer, and, in his eyes, as good as convicted at that. My hands had turned to fists around the now rumpled newspaper, my knuckles were white. Wordlessly I handed Malfoy, who was looking slightly alarmed, the paper. He let his eyes wander over the headline and froze and he didn't move for a long time, barely breathing. His face was whiter than usual, his lips tightened to a hard line. There wasn't the sadness in his face that I had felt when he had... Ron had died, but the regret in his eyes was so strong I had to look away from him.

After a long while, he threw the paper away and closed his eyes. I didn't really want to be here right now, but I felt like I had to say something, so I asked slowly: "Are you... alright?"

He didn't answer right away. Then, with a silent, controlled voice, a bit of venom in it: "And since when would you care about my well-being?"

I looked at him for a moment.

"I don't," I said, finally. He had taken my love away from me, and even though I didn't wish death on Narcissa, I knew he deserved to reap what he had sowed countless times. On the other hand side I wasn't indifferent to my involuntary and only companion. So I kept my gaze on him for a moment longer, then started reading one of the new books in my arm chair, the only sound being the crackle of the fire.

* * *

After an hour or two, he cleared his throat.

"Narcissa didn't deserve this." He spoke low but with a hard voice. I looked up from my book to his controlled face.

"Our marriage might have been a mere political move, ensuring the power of the House of Black and the House of Malfoy."

He paused.

"But she was a dutiful wife and a talented witch and I... respected her." I noticed he hadn't used the word 'love', but in his case, respect seemed to be just as much of a concession.

"It was my duty, in return, to care for her and protect her, and instead I have dragged her down with me."

There was another long pause. When he next spoke, his voice was barely audible.

"I most regret this."

We looked at each other for a few heartbeats, then I got up from my armchair, walked over to his bed and sat down on the footboard. I leaned against the wall, not touching him, not speaking a word, not even making eye contact. He didn't react to my presence, but he did not send me away, either. After a long while, as the fire had almost died down, I heard his breathing become slow and shallow and knew he had fallen asleep.

With as little sound as possible I got up from the bed and lay down in my corner, and soon the room turned dark and silent.


	17. Silence is Silver

Chapter 17 – Silence is Silver

* * *

When I woke up in the morning, I knew our time in the hut was over. I enchanted one of the bags with the Undetectable Extension Charm I had used on my old purse, shrunk it in size so it wouldn't bother me and began packing what little belongings we had – food, a comb, toothbrushes, potions, bandages, some of the ingredients that were still left in the cupboard and, most importantly, the books. I also took a bunch of the herbs that hung down from the ceiling and fresh ones, too, that I had collected, and stored them in one of the pouches attached to my dress. There was nothing else I possessed anymore, except for Greyback's and Malfoy's wands which I kept safely stored in a holster around my wrist. I had picked two dark, heavy overcoats for us, in case our next destination didn't provide immediate shelter.

With one last look I made sure I hadn't forgotten anything, then walked over to the bedside and wordlessly extended my hand to him. He took it just as wordlessly and I helped him stand up. I carefully put the heavy cape around him, then took care of my own. Leading him outside, I lifted all wards again and sent a strong Blasting Curse back into the hut, leaving it roughly in the state in which we had found it.

With the much taller wizard leaning heavily on me, I turned around, walked a few steps, and without either of us looking back, we Disapparated.

We appeared somewhere in the middle of the mountains. I found a suitable cave just when the sun had passed its zenith, or at least I think it did, as it was hard to make out the sky through the heavy fog around us. The cave was somewhat spacious and went a mile deep into the mountain, a tunnel, really. I set up a sleeping-place for me and one for Malfoy and prepared a belated breakfast. For the first time in forever I was going to eat real food, but my appetite hadn't come back to me. I handed Lucius a plate and ate from mine mechanically. After finishing, I just got up and left the cave to once again explore our new surroundings. I returned only in the evening, having made sure there was no settlement, no camp-site and no trace of human life in general nearby. We ate our dinner in silence, too, and went to sleep. Our sleeping-places were parallel to one another, and I noticed him laying in the dark, facing me, his eyes open and impossible to read, for a long while.

* * *

A few days passed like this. Ever since the evening we had found out about Narcissa's death we hadn't spoken one word to each other, there simply wasn't anything to say. I could empathise with his loss and at the same time had no comfort to offer and no compassion to show, so I just left him be. Only at night he would lie there and stare at me in the dark, the grey orbs reflecting the hint of moonlight that had found its way in here.

Usually I'd read in the mornings, mostly some of the Herborists' books as they were simple to understand and didn't need any kind of assistance from Malfoy. They were mostly Herbology books, which was fine, because with my newly awakened fascination with Potions and Poisons I could reclassify a lot of information and combine new ingredients and their effects in my mind effortlessly.

I'd still read in the books I had found in the hut, too, mostly re-reading what I had already went over with Malfoy and applying some of my new understanding on it.

In the afternoons, I'd usually go outside and practice some new spells and some old ones, because I was still not used to Greyback's wand and didn't want to rust. Something kept me from using Malfoy's wand, it just felt too personal, too connected to him. After having gone over Greyback's assault and subsequent death over and over in my head, I had started to try myself at wandless magic, too. It seemed foolish to neglect such a useful skill, hard to control as it may be. So far I had managed to wandlessly cast a _Lumos_ Spell and hold it for a while, too, and one time I had managed a very weak _Stupefy_ , as well as _Accioing_ small stones. I tried not to be frustrated by my slow progress as I knew there were few wizards who could do wandless magic, but it was annoying to fail at a simple _Wingardium Leviosa._

I also practised the _other_ Spells. I started with _Sectumsempra,_ which was not in the books, of course, but it seemed right to learn as I had known it the longest. It wasn't hard to master, but very effective, even if my efforts were wasted on the piles of rocks I practised my Curses on. I moved on to a very basic one, hardly worthy to be called Dark Magic that really was just a more elaborated Slicing Curse, but I wasn't taking risks with my unfamiliar wand.

* * *

When I came back one evening and started a small fire to prepare some meat for dinner, I heard Lucius clearing his throat. Expectantly, I looked into his direction, not daring to move, and finally, he asked me:

"Tell me, woman, have I ever actually answered your question about the Cold-Blooded Curse?"

And as I shook my head surprisedly, he leaned forward and began to tell me about the way it worked, how to cast it and possible uses and soon I found myself deep into a discussion that was not exactly personal but still different from before, more deliberate and relaxed in a way, and it lasted until deep in the night when I lay down, my head full of new information and a tingling feeling in my stomach that _did_ resemble happiness a bit.

Finally I fell asleep, his pale, bright eyes firmly fixed on me.


	18. As White as Snow, as Red as Blood

Chapter 18 – As White as Snow, as Red as Blood

I never slept much, hadn't done so since we had started hunting for Horcruxes and even less so since my time at Malfoy Manor. I usually rose at dawn, sometimes to find Malfoy staring at me, sometimes to find him still asleep. One time, I hadn't been able to suppress my curiosity and regarded his calm face while he slept, it was a sight too rare not to appreciate. The shadows around his eyes weren't as dark as mine, but the past weeks had left distinct traces on him. There was the slightest crook in his nose where I had punched him, and a couple of silvery scars here and there from our various encounters. I had managed to mark him almost as much as he had marked me, and I briefly smiled at that. _Serves you right, you bastard_ , I thought almost tenderly. There still was an undeniable beauty to his aristocratic features, even now, and he seemed so out of place, lying on the floor of a cave. I highly doubted I looked half as graceful currently.

It had started to snow, and even my spells couldn't keep the icy winds out of our primitive refuge, so I saw to it that there was a fire burning at all times, to keep Malfoy warm while I was gone during the day, although I didn't go outside too often these days. Occasionally I'd make the ropes around his arms disappear, allowing him to read a bit so he wouldn't be too bored while I was gone, making sure to charm the tight ropes around his legs and feet to be indestructible and irremovable. We even went outside for a walk, once, me having freed his legs and feet but my wand ready in my hand. He had been almost as pale as the driven snow and almost as pure, too and looked at the world around him in silent marvel. We reached the summit of the mountain and faced the fog that lay over the valley and exchanged looks that were as cold and beautiful as winter.

My thirst for knowledge and learning was as strong as always, though, making it hard for me to remain confined to the cave, no matter how cold and inclement the weather outside, so I just got up one afternoon and walked outside, after a while finding the giant boulder I had discovered recently that provided protection from the winds. I tried myself at wandless magic once again, which I hadn't done since winter had come, finding it even harder than usual. My _Lumos_ collapsed after a minute, I managed to make a minuscule pile of snow float for a few seconds but the _Stupefy_ didn't work at all today. I grew more and more annoyed, the futile tries exhausting me a great deal more than they should have without bearing any actual fruit. My impatience and frustration grew until it was unbearable, making me want to scream or to hurt someone. I furiously started casting Dark Spells around me, starting with simple variations of Slicing Curses, but as they did little to calm me down and I felt my anger growing even colder inside me, I moved on to more vile things I had only recently learned. Then, I cast the Corroi Curse which was kind of the Spell equivalent to the Arranhando Magia Poison in that it sucked part of the magic from the target to lead into the caster, thus making it possible for him to attack his victim with its own magic. Why I decided to hurl it at a boulder, I don't know, and I'm still not sure why exactly it went wrong – was it because of my inexperience or because the Curse had turned back to me as it had found no other source of magic? Whatever the reason, my own Dark Curse hit me with full force, and since it couldn't rip my Magic out of me it made it rip _me_ instead, tearing old wounds open and creating new ones, and bloodstains started forming on my rope, first small and then quickly increasing in size. I screamed out in pain – the Curse had only lasted a few seconds, but I felt torn on the inside, my tight robe painfully chafing my freshly opened wounds with every movement and my blood loss making me light-headed. I needed to get back to the cave, I couldn't properly heal myself here in the cold, and if I stayed outside much longer I'd faint to never wake up again.

So I dragged myself back to the cave, leaving a small scarlet trail behind me and when I entered, it took me a while to notice there was no light illuminating it. _What happened to the fire_ , I wondered, as I had to wait for my eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, and then something big hurled itself at me and with a scream I fell to the ground, Greyback's wand flying into some remote corner of the cave. I could barely keep myself conscious, but my body reacted automatically, I started throwing punches at the body on top of me, started kicking and scratching and barely noticed the punches my opponent was landing, barely noticed the crushing weight of his body on mine. _Punches...?_ the part of my brain that still worked wondered. Suddenly, Ron's voice resounded in my head: "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?" it screamed and I remembered Malfoy's wand in my holster. I managed to get hold of it and press it into Malfoy's throat just as Malfoy stopped attacking me when he noticed the wetness of my blood on his hands and through his clothes, staring at his hand unbelievingly and then into my eyes as I pierced his own wand into his flesh. He didn't even try to disarm me or defend himself, like he didn't even _notice_ the wand at his throat. He just looked at me with wide eyes, pressing me down with his much taller body. We both stared at each other, panting heavily, seemingly unable to move. Our faces were so close that I could feel his hot breath on my skin. I found it hard to think clearly, my mind was blank and my heart was racing and there was his smell all around me, his eyes winding themselves into mine.

With the wand still pressed firmly into his throat, he slowly leaned even closer, his eyes wide and somehow foggy and dark at the same time until his lips were brushing mine, not kissing me, just his heavy breaths mixing with mine, his heart beating at the same pace as my heart, my blood on his body which was melting into my smaller frame, pressing me against the floor and pressing his rigidity against me. My head was spinning and I started to feel _hot_ and really strange and I moved a little, unintentionally rubbing against him and he groaned, a deep, animal-like sound that made his body vibrate against mine.

And then we both came to our senses at the same time, him shooting to one wall of the cave, me to the opposite one, were we both collapsed, our pants resounding loudly in the narrow cave, looking at each other with dilated pupils and shock on our faces.


	19. Lex Talionis

Chapter 19 – Lex Talionis

* * *

It took a while for us to calm down. I quickly _Accioed_ Greyback's wand and stored Malfoy's away safely in my holster again. I used a few healing spells on myself and then, holding my sides as I crawled over to the elder wizard, I tightly bound his arms again with my wand and healed some, but not all of my wounds. Malfoy didn't offer any kind of resistance and while I did my best to avoid his gaze I still felt his eyes calmly set on me, following my every movement. After I had made sure he was completely bound again, I just turned away and dragged myself to my sleeping-place where I collapsed once more, the hardships of the day now coming back to me with full force. I quickly downed a Blood-Replenishing Potion and all but passed out.

I didn't look if he had lain down, too, or if he was fixing me with his pale eyes again, but instead sunk to a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

I slept through most of the following day, only waking up once to down another Blood-Replenishing Potion. Malfoy was sitting upright in his sleeping-place but hadn't moved apart from that, and after casting a glance at his intact fetters, I passed out again.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I immediately got away from the sleeping corner. I was still incredibly weak, I didn't trust myself to walk that much or to work magic for the Curse had weakened both my body and powers immensely. I was still a bit dizzy, too. That didn't leave much else to do than to sit around, but perhaps it was best to take some time to go over a couple of things anyway. Carefully storing the memories of the other evening away for the time being, I started going over my open files mentally, summarizing what I knew and what I didn't.

What I didn't know, for example, was whether Harry was still alive or not. I was sure even I would have heard about it if he was found dead, because Voldemort himself would probably come up here and scream it from the mountains. But then again, what if he had died and Voldemort didn't know? The Order surely wouldn't make a public fact out of the death of their symbolic leader. Unable to reach a conclusion, I went on to wonder what exactly his possible death meant to me. I don't know if he had tried to find me, but I had not tried to find him for sure. I knew there still was love for Harry somewhere deep, deep down inside me, in the furthest corners of the ruin of my mind, but for now it was inaccessible to me. Moreover... ever since his first year, Harry, Ron and me had fought the Dark Forces, just like the Order had done ever since before I was born. What right did I have to go back to them? No, there was no place for me in the ranks of the Light, no home to come back to. I was as close to being a Death Eater as I was to being a member of the Order now. There was no side for me but my own.

Another thought had slept in my mind for a while now, and it concerned the article in the **Daily Prophet**. Obviously Malfoy had not murdered his wife, and I could imagine who had killed her and why. Still, I needed to confirm my suspicions, so with a sigh I crawled over to Malfoy, who was either still or again leaning against the wall next to his makeshift bed.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice hoarse but as firm as I could keep it. His face had turned back to the cool mask I hadn't seen in a while that didn't quite match with the wild storm I had found in his eyes the other evening, but that was neither here nor there.

"I have thought about what was written in the **Daily Prophet,** " I said, and his eyes narrowed, turning even harder.

"As we both know, _you_ probably better than me, the **Daily Prophet** is on the direct payroll of your _master_ , which is why I find it so unsettling to have you all but publicly framed as a murderer. Do you care to confirm my suspicions as to what it means?"

Malfoy frowned slightly, but seemed a bit relieved I had decided to gloss over certain topics.

"It means," he finally drawled, "that the Dark Lord has either lost his use for or his faith in me or outright suspects me to be a traitor. I believe I have to thank _you_ for that."

I returned his scowl, annoyed by his inappropriate hostility that I had thought beyond us by now.

"Well, he is not wrong, is he?" I returned equally chilly. "You couldn't even keep a low Mudblood schoolgirl imprisoned, I wouldn't put much faith in you, either."

The old hate flickered into his face again, it had once seemed such a natural part of his features but now I was aware how much it defaced him. Then the hate made way for a pensive, serious expression, and I wondered what was going through his head now, mildly surprised he hadn't hurled one of his bigoted tirades at me by now. Come to think of it, he hadn't called me a filthy Mudblood for a while, either.

Finally, he spoke: "You're not low."

It didn't sound like a compliment, in fact he didn't even sound happy about it. And yet he had said it. There was no affection between us, and no lies and no hate. What exactly was it, then, that kept us like this?

I searched his eyes for something that would help me find an answer, tell me what to think or to feel, but all I found in them was silvern frost and the empty infinity of my own heart. Still, I smiled at him, a strangely genuine smile, and with astonishment I saw the hint of a smile on his lips in return.

After a while, I said: "Now that we have established that, I believe we still need to talk about the other day, Malfoy." His face twitched ever so slightly.

"I am not quite fond of being attacked, even though that apparently doesn't keep people from trying again and again. Still, I thought you wiser by now."

Weeks ago he would have probably reacted to my words with hatred or arrogance, but now there was this strange understanding between us. I knew that he had to try, he knew that I couldn't allow him to.

"I am a bit weak right now, so you'll surely forgive me if I..." and with that I took a knife out of a leather holster attached to my hip. His eyes widened slightly but he looked oddly calm at the same time.

He had managed quite a few hits on me yesterday, using his fists and his nails, too, undoubtedly adding a few new scars to my already vast collection. So I leaned forward and started carefully cutting his skin where he had ripped mine open, taking no sadistic pleasure out of the process but merely doing the necessary, re-establishing the balance between us. He groaned in pain a couple of times, but when I was done he sat still and let me wipe some of the blood out of his face and hair.

As I looked at him, his body as scarred as mine, his soul just as broken and strong and proud, the smile returned to my lips without me being able to help it.

"Now we're the same... Lucius," I whispered.

And into the silence he murmured back: "So we are, Hermione."


	20. Arrogance-Induced Catatonia

Chapter 20 – Arrogance-Induced Catatonia

* * *

As soon as I was able to safely stand on my own feet, which took me two more days, I decided we had to change locations once again. On the third day I got up at sunrise and packed our bag. We hadn't spoken much after our little talk, but it wasn't an uncomfortable or even unfriendly silence. I guess we just both had something to think about and in the narrow cave there was no other way to withdraw but to retreat into you own mind's privacy.

When I was done, I took Lucius' arm and we walked outside into an infinite whiteness, interrupted only by a delicate trail of scarlet which made Lucius look at me and then shrug. I proceeded to follow the trail to behind the boulder, carefully erasing it on the way. We had been lucky no one had come across it. Once I was done and it looked like no one had been here ever since the snowfall, the elder wizard took my arm wordlessly and we Disapparated.

We next found ourself in another forest, this time an older, darker one where even the trees were covered in moss. I began walking northwards until we reached the old ruin of a small castle. There were a few walls left above ground, and a very unstable looking tower, but it seemed too exposed to me. We wandered about the ruin until I found what I had been looking for: There was a small hole in the ground underneath the thick roots of an old tree that revealed a staircase.

I magically widened the entrance and then we descended into the dark until we reached the one-time dungeons. I quickly banished a number of Erklings that Merlin-knows-how had found their way to here and checked the dungeon for other dangers, magical or otherwise.

There only was one cell in which I set up our camp. Then I stood there, thinking back and forth and finally dissolved the ropes on Lucius' legs. Together we proceeded to comb through the surroundings. There had been snowfall here, too, but it hadn't been quite as strong as in the mountains and I found myself admiring the crystalline scenery as we wandered through it in awe.

* * *

When we returned to the dungeons, our cheeks and noses were red and our eyes sparkling. I started a fire and we contently sat down to eat. Once done we both went on to immerse ourselves in books, lazily turning a page from time to time. This wasn't the desperate hunger for knowledge that had driven me recently, rather than that it was peaceful indulgence.

I was now able to read many of the books autonomously, asking Lucius questions only from time to time, while he infrequently interrupted his reading to ask for my opinion on a Curse or a theory or a process. Several days passed like this, us exploring the grounds or peacefully reading books.

Sometimes our reading matter matched perfectly, like when he asked me about my opinion on using fiendfyre just as I wanted to ask him about the difference between the Dying-Embers Curse and the _Anima Incendi,_ which made us both chuckle and started a long-winded discussion about fire magic and its advantages and disadvantages (Advantages: powerful, devoured your enemies, left no traces, difficult to stop due to its unpredictability. Disadvantages: hard to control, consumed a lot of Magic, could easily turn against its master and really risky when cast in confined spaces).

* * *

One night, our discussion became so intense that we were basically screaming at each other from the two corners of the room, him insisting that combining the _Cruciatus Curse_ with a Memory Charm could provide excellent torture, making the victim suffering both loss of control over their mind and their body, feeling the pain without knowing why or how, while I _insisted_ that the _Cruciatus Curse_ attacked the victim enough as it was, leaving you with a delirious and unresponsive target if you added any more Charms. We both got really riled up over it, straying further and further away from the actual topic to screaming things at each other we both weren't proud of the next morning, like me screaming: "WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO AND ASK YOUR INSANE SISTER IN LAW ABOUT CRUCIO-INDUCED CATATONIA?" and he: "OH I GOT THE IMPRESSION THE TWO OF YOU WERE MUCH CLOSER, SPENDING WHOLE DAYS TOGETHER; WHY DO YOU NOT ASK HER YOURSELF?" and him calling me "a poor imitation of a Death Eater" which made me childishly yell: "LAST I CHECKED _YOU_ ARE THE POOR IMITATION OF A DEATH EATER!" and by now we stood right in front of each other, our expressions angry, both panting with our hair wild and hanging in our faces; our noses almost touching. When I finally suggested he himself suffered from Arrogance-Induced Catatonia, our faces slowly relaxed and Lucius snorted, then let himself fall down to the floor, just as I did. We both felt like we had just fought in a war, and dead tired as we were, we just fell asleep like that, not touching by far but close to each other still, and from there on we left it like that.


	21. Of Might and Magic

Chapter 21 – Of Might and Magic

* * *

"What do you do while you are gone during the days?"

The question had been uttered so quietly it took me a while to let it get to my mind and with surprise I turned to Lucius who was sitting next to me, his legs bound.

I was oddly reluctant to answer his question. We had shared a lot of knowledge, but until now I had only ever shown him my magic when I tortured him. Still, in the end I answered.

"I go out to practise Spells." I said curtly. He arched a brow at me.

"I assume you are not speaking of a re-enactment of your sad little Defense Class from two years ago? Draco told me," he added at my unspoken question. I briefly considered casting a _Crucio_ on him for the way he had spoken about Dumbledore's Army, and also because it had been a long time since the last one, but then decided against it. It didn't feel like what he sad really concerned _me_ , and with what I had lived through the past year, our secret meetings in fifth year really _did_ seem ridiculous. Still, I moved my hand over to his arm to grip it firmly where some of the wounds were still healing.

"Not everyone has the time to crawl up the Dark Lord's ass while they're studying for their O.W.L.s, Lucius," I smiled sweetly, tightening my grip on him until he hissed sharply, then relaxing my hand around his arm. "Still, of course you are right. I am trying myself at some of the spells we have been talking about..." I didn't know what he had expected I did during the afternoons, but he looked at me surprisedly.

"Is that so?" he asked, leaning forward. "You have been leaving for weeks to experiment with Dark Magic, young one?" He still seemed incredulously, though there was a hint of appreciation in his voice, too.

"What," I laughed. "Did you think that was something between you and me?"

But these words seemed to remind us both of an evening we had not since spoken about, and the atmosphere immediately shifted, our faces now serious and our expressions calculating.

"I want to see it," he said finally.

* * *

So, the next day, I took him with me into the forest and started my usual procedures, casting simple curses at first, little things like Irreversible Slicing Curses that would leave you with an open wound for the rest of your life or the Dying-Embers Curse we had talked about that literally made the blood of the victim boil, burning him from inside-out. I didn't have much difficulties mastering the basic and some of the more advanced curses, but there was one thing I had forced myself to reluctantly notice: The spells themselves were not hard to control, the real danger was how easily they controlled me.

It had been that way the day when I had sliced myself open in the mountains, when I had tried to take my anger out on the stones around me but had instead worked myself into a fury that could very well have ended with my death. Just like that, the simple curses began to make way for more complex, twisted ones, and I started bleeding pure hatred into the world, the presence of the other wizard all but forgotten, though I suspect I still sensed the magical presence beside me, classifying it as a threat.

I destroyed and devoured and wreaked havoc and when my Dark Magic started clashing with his natural one, I turned around, intent to cause pain and to kill, but there were two pale, grey orbs that pierced me through the mist. I slowly came to my senses in a lonely battlefield. Across the clearing stood Lucius, unmoving, like a statue, his eyes dark and in his face an expression of wild, uncontrolled hunger.

"Let me teach you," he finally said.

I nodded.


	22. Where No One Belongs

Chapter 22 – Where No One Belongs

* * *

There were a few things I grasped the following days. I had read about or heard them before, but now I really, really _understood_. Dark Magic isn't like regular magic in that one has to _mean it_ to make it work. I had been told countless times but never really comprehended the real meaning until now. When I used to work magic back in my school days, it always felt like letting an endless spring of energy that flowed out of me, a happy little river that just never went dry. With Dark Magic, it was different. Every time I had used it, something had tugged at my mind, ripped something off my heart. Every pain I inflicted had left a scar inside me, too. For a force so powerful, there was the highest price to pay – one's soul, spoken simply. I had agreed with Professor Dumbledore back then that nothing was worth that loss, and yet as I had gone through all Unforgivable curses within one day, it was too late for such qualms. There was no sense in protecting something I had lost in the darkness of that lonely prison and on the floor of the drawing room. Now that I had lost my life and my soul, I was in return granted the highest of freedoms: The freedom to sin.

* * *

Lucius was an excellent teacher. He taught me the slight differences between brutality and violence, correcting my every movement, paying attention to the way I cast a Curse, the way I breathed, and how I used my wand. At first I had been wary of granting him that much liberty, but the hunger I had seen in his face was eating me away, too. Lucius was experienced in a way only someone whose very existence was moulded by the Dark Forces could be. Following his instructions, my Spells became artful, even elegant. It was simple (well, not _that_ simple, but still), to hurl Dark Curses at something, but he made me combine Spells, made me weave vicious Curses around each other. The way he made me move resembled a dance as much as a battle.

The most important thing I learned from him was self-control. It was especially hard because it meant I had to expose myself to him first, and _trust_ him. I had not forgotten my time at the Manor and the following incidents. Still, my wish to improve overpowered my fear. I learned to be stronger than my instincts, not without hexing him quite a few times, but he never complained. Those were no conventional instructions he gave me, and I suspected he made me go through his own upbringing, teaching me to maintain a cold smile even in the most precarious situations. He made me stand in the middle of the forest, my eyes blindfolded, my heart beating, as he strode around me, daring me to lash out at him as he threatened me in this helpless state or made me recite my knowledge of Magical history as I stood, barely dressed in a light tunic, in the middle of snow, my freezing skin crying out in pain. It must have looked stupid from the outside, but I was learning to bear tension or even outright danger without that cold hatred overpowering me. The thought that Lucius probably had been forced by his father to go through the same as a _child_ was both saddening and motivating. He had done it, I could do it too.

What made me immensely nervous, though, was that our dynamics had shifted greatly. He was still technically my prisoner, still slept with ropes around his body, but they seemed to be a pure formality. He taught me Dark Magic, he shared my meals and my silence and my loneliness. His grey eyes gazed at me in the dark of the nights and the faint light of dawn. I had that returning dream of us, in the drawing room, torturing Greyback or Bellatrix together, mixed with other dreams where I would drown in silver light, surrounded by beauty but suffocating painfully. Sometimes I would catch him staring at me with the same wild hunger he had displayed that other day, sometimes there was something I didn't understand in his face. I couldn't always avoid thinking about those looks, about these puzzling expressions and developments and for all I learned and absorbed greedily I _couldn't_ understand it. It made my head hurt and something in my chest sting. I had the feeling there was something I had forgotten, something important and terrible and it was engraved somewhere in his eyes and his hunger and that other thing. All I knew was that it made me tremble in fear.

* * *

After an exhausting day full of progress and setbacks and discussions and pain, we sat at the fireplace in our basement and he was reading a book. He looked so calm as he leaned against the wall, a few strands of his alabaster hair carelessly hanging around his face and the reflection of the fire in his icy orbs. His features were so fine and elegant, so unlike his surroundings. He raised his head to meet my stare and there it was again, that pain, and I made my decision then. I got up, walked around the fire to sit down next to him and made his ropes disappear. He seemed confused now, almost alarmed.

"What are you-" but he fell silent as I wordlessly took his wand out of my holster and held it out to him. Desire was now shining in his eyes, but he still seemed suspicious, as if he thought he might be walking into a trap. After a few moments passed without me cursing him, he hesitantly took his wand, his motions almost tender, his fingers gently caressing the dark wood. He managed to tear his gaze away from it, eventually, and returned his attention to me, joy fighting confusion.

I searched for my voice and finally said: "You may go, Lucius."

Then I started to get up to retreat to my corner, but I felt his now free hand grip my arm and yank me back down.

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed almost angrily. Why was he questioning me? He should have been out the door the moment I handed him his wand. The pain in my chest intensified.

"There is nothing to be gained here, for you," I said coldly. "Return to your Manor and hope that your _master_ forgives you or don't, but you don't belong here. No one belongs here."

Lucius anger showed openly now. "Have you understood nothing, ignorant girl?" he spat at me. "The Manor you speak of has not _belonged_ to me in a long time now. My wife is dead and my son a danger to me or himself, depending on who his loyalty belongs to-"

"You will get by, you're a _Pureblood_ wizard, right? That still means someth-"

"IT DOES NOT MEAN ANYTHING TO ME ANYMORE!" He yelled, grasping my shoulders, forcing me to face him, to lean closer than I would have liked. He cleared his throat.

"I have lost my wand, my family, my home and my power to the Dark Lord long before you came into the picture," he said, his voice now calmer but hard as steel. "All I had left were my beliefs and my pride, and _you_ took that away from me, too." And one of his hands started wandering upwards, finally halting in my neck, as if unsure whether he wanted to caress me or choke me.

"I have spent my life with unfaltering confidence my inborn superiority and then you come, a young Mu- _witch_ of no notable parentage, and I find myself surprised by you. You torture me and you best me and make me _think,_ think you are worthy-" His hand was now tightening around my neck.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS?" He suddenly hurled at me. "THERE IS NO PLACE I CAN GO TO BECAUSE THERE IS NOWHERE I BELONG ANYMORE!"

His face was close to mine now, his voice suddenly a low hiss: "And you dare to do that to me and then just dispose of me without any kind of explanation?"

And with that, he slumped down, his hands falling down at my sides. I was paralysed, my head spinning violently and the pain in my chest overwhelming me and I finally uttered: "Do you not want to be free?"

His face was now tired and his voice weary as he spoke next.

"I have never been free, Hermione. I have been raised to follow orders. I have married because I was told to, hated who I was raised to hate and sacrificed what little I had to offer to someone who made me a servant and prisoner in my own home."

He slowly raised his hand to my cheek, tracing my cheekbones and then my scars with his fingers.

"But you were tortured and humiliated and degraded, and yet I never felt that I possessed any real power over you. This made me hate you the most. The Malfoys have always followed power, been at the very core of it and yet I have been a slave all my life and you, Hermione..." he brought his face even closer to mine, his eyes now softer than I had ever seen them.

"...and you will die, having bowed to no one."

And his lips lightly touched mine and the pain inside me was at its height now, as if it was trying to break out of me. I allowed myself to close my eyes for a heartbeat, sinking into him, allowed myself a small taste of him and then I quickly got up before he could stop me.

"You may stay with me, then." I murmured. "If that is what you wish."

"It is," he said.

* * *

That night I lay still and returned his silent gaze until I finally passed out.


	23. Magick Moste Evile

**Thank you for your reviews and _unvoiced_ support so far, lovelies. As a side note, I have noticed my writing program constantly tries to change "Malfoy" to "abysmal", which never ceases to amuse me.**

* * *

Chapter 23 – Magick Moste Evile

* * *

Everything was different from before even though nothing had really changed. We still roamed about the lands and read books and explored the Dark Arts, only now he was my companion, not my prisoner. With him having his wand back, our lessons changed dramatically. Sometimes he'd demonstrate one Curse or another after observing how I cast it, and it never ceased to amaze me how _refined_ his movements were, how subtly different the way he canalized his Magic. In Hogwarts we learned movements and incantations and facts, but we had never learned art, never been taught to handle Magic with the supreme control and grace Lucius displayed. They were just things that came along with breathing Magic from the moment you were born, I thought, and then remembered the Weasleys – Ron's clumsy but reliable wandwork, Molly's efficient and skilful approach that still somehow lacked the beauty and might of Lucius' way entirely. _No,_ I decided, _this isn't just his upbringing, it's_ him.

I had seen him in a real fight only once the Department of Mysteries, and back then I had been a whit busy with other things, but now I could truly appreciate the masterful wizard that Lucius Malfoy was. When we duelled, he turned into a whirlwind, only lacking the chaotic aspect of one for he was pure and utter self-control. His posture was immaculate. He blocked most Curses effortlessly, but he never ducked, seldomly relented. He never once let his adversary define his movements, which meant that it was incredibly hard to get him in a disadvantageous position where I could land a hit – I still managed to do that a few times, and even though my instructor never uttered a compliment, I could see the distinct appreciation on his face.

Lucius had conjured a cane – Merlin knows from where – and fixed his wand back to its usual ensemble. It was a bit odd seeing him with the dark rod that he managed to hold like a sceptre, like he used to do, while being covered in wounds and in a state of disarray I couldn't have ever imagined him in. The way he used his cane in fight was utterly curious and unlike anything I'd seen before. The cane itself wasn't overly magical, but when in fight, it almost seemed like he was using two wands – or two swords, even. With him, Magic wasn't something that came out of his wand, it was something he was surrounded by, something he radiated. Learning from him provided me with an incredible insight to the true potentials of wizardry, so I didn't even mind that he had the upper hand in most duels.

Another great difference between what we did and our training in Hogwarts was that we both didn't hold back in any way but lethal Curses, which were obviously off-limits. In Hogwarts, one was both restricted magically (no Dark Arts) and morally (nothing really dangerous or harmful), while we in the other hand didn't care about the physical well-being of the other. We only cared about power. More often than not, we'd return to the castle ruin with fresh wounds or bruises or sometimes broken limbs, but neither of us minded. We'd just heal each other the best we could and then we'd ruthlessly try to injure the other with all our might the next morning. It was beautiful.

* * *

When the hits I managed to land on Lucius became a little more frequent, I started imitating his fighting style with my dagger, which I had become quite fond of. It was hard to fight with two hands instead of one after doing so for seven years, but it also seemed to make sense, since the other hand was usually used for balance at best, which seemed a terrible waste. I wasn't as skilled as Lucius, by far, my movements were untrained and clumsy and I managed to stab myself a few times in the heat of battle – but I was learning something new, which excited me immensely. Fighting with the knife bore similarities to using wandless Magic. It was much harder and required more force and concentration than using a wand, it required an entirely different understanding of Magic itself, which I was only now obtaining. I couldn't compete with my instructor in that regard.

I tried my best to keep my distance from my companion otherwise. That strange aching had worsened, that ever-present voice tugging my mind, telling me there was something important I had lost and forgotten, something essential and horrible that had been dispelled in a violent green fire and was now hidden at the bottom of the silvery lake I kept drowning in night after night and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I kind of failed miserably at that, too, though. Partially because we were truly and utterly stuck with each other now, spending our days and nights together and living in that tiny subterranean room. And partially because hurt and puzzle me as it might, I _needed_ to speak to him, needed the knowledge he held, the instructions he provided, the distraction he offered. I needed it because it make me wake up in the morning and it kept my heart beating and my blood flowing, even if it made my head and my chest hurt. And I suppose he needed it, too, because he kept his word to stay at my side even though it was lonely and desolated.

* * *

We went back to our discussions in the evenings, now on a complete different level since we could back them with mutual experience. Lucius would look up from his book and say things like: "Do you remember the _Distractio_ I landed on you yesterday?"

And I: "Was that the one that tore my bones apart every time I used Magic? The blue lightning one?"

And he'd nod, and start to explain: "The _Distractio_ is a fancy little Curse, as you might have noticed, but easy to break – proof being that you are not currently smeared all over that clearing..." and we'd chuckle, and he would go on to explain which combinations would enhance the Curse, which ones would counter it, how to best apply it and how to best defend against it. More and more times I was able to add something to the conversation myself, asking specific questions or even making suggestions about possible improvements or outcomes of certain combinations. When occasionally a pensive look appeared on Lucius' face as a reaction to something I said, it was one of my most treasured rewards.

* * *

Finally, one evening I finished **Magick Moste Evile** , which had frustrated me immensely in my sixth year when I had scanned it for information regarding Horcruxes. Now I read it almost effortlessly. It was more of an Encyclopedia than a manual, I understood that now. It recited most aspects and spells of dark nature without really providing instructions, but just enough information to pair it with the knowledge I myself held by now and to make my own conclusions.

Undecided, I reached for the next book from the pile of ones I hadn't read or finished yet (which was dangerously small), and found myself with **Discov'ries of Dunnest Nature** in my hands once again. It was one of the most advanced and vilest books in the collection, one of the most complex ones ever written at that. I was as ready as I'd get, though, and with my heart fluttering the way it had fluttered in another life when Viktor Krum had asked me out and kissed me, I opened the first page once again, this time feeling like I was meeting an old friend.

After I had finished the first chapter, my brow had furrowed and I closed the book with a loud **thump** which made Lucius look up from his own book.  
"Found something exciting, Miss Granger?" he asked politely, barely concealing his amusement.

"It's Herpo the Foul's book," I said, ignoring his tone. "I have just finished the first chapter, and there is something... different about his Curses. I can't put my finger on it."

"Explain."

"Well, his Spells and approach seem much more focused on the target than the caster, in a way. I don't know how to describe it, it's just a feeling I get... Once I might have said his methods seem more evil, but that would mean oversimplifying it."

Lucius' expression became thoughtful, but there was a glint of understanding, too. Finally he turned to me.

"I have told you about the Cold-Blooded Curse, do you remember what it does?"

"I do," I answered uncertainly.

"Tell me about it, then."

"Well, it... works a bit like the Imperius Curse, in that it changes the targets behaviour, but it's also completely different because there is no direct control involved, I think. It makes the actions of the victim dissonant with or downright contradictory to his true will, changes his personality, in a way..."

"That is correct, but there is more to it than that," Lucius affirmed. "Someone hit with the Cold-Blooded Curse will start destroying that which is most dear to him seemingly out of his own will. It is different from other Curses because it is the victim's own doings alone that destroy him, and there is no physical pain involved. A man hit with this Curse may find himself unable to relate to other humans any longer, his heart will grow harder and colder and he will start hurting that which he once loved. Affection will turn to pain and then into hate, and under the influence of the Curse a man might well murder his own son and wife, torture his friends and betray those who rely on him."

Lucius stopped, expectantly regarding me, waiting for my reaction.

"So what is the end-goal, then?" I asked finally. "Does he just go on with that until the Curse kills him?"

"No, young witch, that would sort of defeat the true purpose of it. What the Curse does at the end is much viler, much more effective than to kill its victim." He smiled. "In the end, it just disappears."

"I don't understand, Lucius." I said. It disappeared? Why was that worse than killing the victim? Wouldn't that actually be a relieve?

Lucius' smile widened, and he came closer, leaning forwards until his tall frame was towering over me. "What happens, my preciously curious companion, is that the Curse lifts only when everything the victim once loved is destroyed. It does not just leave him to go on, but instead returns all memories, feelings and the victim's conscience to their natural state, making them realise in one moment of full clarity what they have done, who they have killed, without granting them the dissociation of the _Imperio_." Lucius now closed the gap between us, leaning into my shoulder, his lips carefully positioned at my ear, his voice no more than a deep murmur.

"I have taught you Curses that attack a wizard's body and magic and even some that attack his mind, but what Herpo the Foul specialises in surpasses them all, Hermione. That is the difference that you noticed so astutely but could not word, for you have killed and tortured, but there is just one thing more terrible and cruel than that." His hand wandered from my collarbone over my throat up to my face, roughly turning me around so that I was now forced to look into his dangerously gleaming eyes, the faint smile on his lips completely changing his face.

"What this most hidden and forbidden branch of Magic does, does not leave marks on the victim's body, it does not even impair the clarity of his mind. What it does-" his hands tightened around my face and I could feel something strange radiating through me-

"is to destroy his soul."


	24. Two Beautiful Monsters Share a Curse

Chapter 24 – Two Beautiful Monsters Share a Curse

* * *

I sleeplessly lay in the dark for a long while after that. There was just something about what Lucius had told me that rubbed me the wrong way. I had become so dull in many aspects, so indifferent and at times even cruel (I didn't try to deceive myself in that point), that it surprised and alarmed me that anything would cause this reaction in me yet. But there was something about this kind of Magic that simultaneously repulsed and drew me. I was, for once, absolutely certain I did not want to explore it, delightfully vicious and intricate as it may be. I had done many things I would have deemed terrible in another life, and I would not make someone follow me down that path, that was for sure. It was _my_ path after all. And yet there was something about it that had resounded in me at Lucius' words. It left a bad taste in my mouth and I didn't know why.

I finally fell asleep and dreamed of myself, standing in that parlour inside Malfoy Manor, and then there was Ron on that floor and Lucius behind me. He had pulled me into a tight embrace, one of his arms tightly wrapped around my waist, the other hand slowly conquering my body, roughly groping my breasts and wandering downwards, touching me through the fabric of my robe in a way that made me dizzy and ecstatic until I couldn't control the moans slipping out of me. He was whispering his monologue about the Cold-Blooded Curse into my ear, his hot breath on the sensitive skin of my throat, and I couldn't contain the red light that flew out of my wand to hit Ron, couldn't even hear his screams in my mindless ecstasy. The motions of his fingers became more frantic as I felt him grow hard against me, his voice now groaning graphic descriptions in my ear and I was trembling in pleasure, pushing myself back into his rigid manhood and then I came undone and screamed in lust and the light pouring out of my wand to hit Ron became green...

...And I woke up, flustered and with this strange feeling in my lower body.

I quickly got up, ignoring Lucius' sleeping shape only an arm-length away and went outside to sit in the cold snow for a while. What in Circe's bloody name is was happening to me?

* * *

When I decided I was risking to lose a limb to the cold I went back to the dungeon where Lucius awaited me with a questioning glance.

"It's time to move on," I said.

We packed our things and left the ruin. As he had done before, he took my arm so we could Disapparate, but somehow it was different, because he wasn't bound but still somehow following me. I shoved that thought away along with the tingling feeling his ever-tight grip caused and the fresh memories it aroused. _I really need to get away from here._

Our next shelter was an old abandoned shed by the lakeside that had once been used by the Ministry of Magic as a base when hunting merpeople before it became illegal and the shed was left to rot. It was small but there were four beds in it and basic furniture, which was much more than we were used to. So we made ourself at home, me unpacking our belongings, Lucius securing the surroundings of our new housing. Once everything was stored away and safe, we went on to explore the surroundings together as had become our habit. We found a small Muggle village two hours away, which meant I might be able to steal a couple of supplies, but it also meant we couldn't stay here for long, because the risk of us being discovered was exponentially higher. _Of course that would be the case when we stay somewhere with multiple actual beds for once,_ I thought bitterly.

* * *

When we came back to the shed, the shadows had grown long and a hint of red was in the sky. I prepared dinner as Lucius read a passage from **Morgana's Diary** to me and then we ate.

Later we had gone back to our usual silent reading when Lucius suddenly put his book down and cleared his throat.

"May I ask you something that has been for a mind for quite some time, Hermione?" he said carefully.

"If it has entertained your sophisticated mind for so long, you certainly may," I said sweetly, but dreading what was to come. When a Malfoy was gentle or careful there was trouble to follow.

"Back then, when I came to your cell and you overwhelmed me... I got distracted by Fenrir Greyback's corpse, and it wasn't an illusion, was it?"

"No," I said curtly, hoping he would leave it at that. Of course he didn't.

"What happened exactly? How did you kill him without your wand?"

I briefly considered not answering his question. I still didn't care particularly for that day. But he had this gleam in his eyes again and that gleam always meant he was dead-set on something and wouldn't stop until he succeeded, so I braced myself.

"Greyback had come in, telling me Vol- You-Know-Who was on his way and that there wasn't much time left, so he intended to collect his 'finder's reward'. He started touching me," and here Lucius face turned into a grimace of fury and disgust, "and then suddenly there was a loud crack and he was sent flying against the wall."

Lucius took a few seconds to banish the cold hatred from his face and then asked, his voice too calm and controlled to convince me: "I suppose no one else had entered your chamber, or you would have been unlikely to ambush me later – unless, of course, I greatly underestimated your longing for my company?"

I ignored his bait and stated: "No, there was no one. It was an emotional reaction apparently, wandless magic." I thought I saw a short glimpse of admiration in his face but maybe it was the dim light that was playing a trick on me.

"Quite remarkable... as to be expected, surely... And Fenrir Greyback died right on the spot?"

"No, I _Avada'd_ him and then took his wand." Lucius' face changed slightly at my words, his brow furrowed.

"Mourning for your old friend there, Lucius?" I asked coldly.

He immediately scowled at me. "Fenrir Greyback was a disgusting... dare I say, human being? His death is no loss to the world or Wizard Society, not even to the Death Eaters. He was a beast. A monster." Lucius' fury was back, but it didn't affect me that much, for it was not directed at me.

"Yes, but so are you," I said softly. "And you turned me into one, too."

His eyes widened, and then suddenly he leaned over, took my face into his hands almost tenderly, his face now serious and his eyes searching for mine, and when he found them, he whispered hoarsely: "I would _never_ hurt you, Hermione."

We looked at each other for a few more seconds and then both burst into roaring laughter.


	25. The Nights are Filled with Feral Dreams

Chapter 25 – The Nights are Filled with Feral Dreams

* * *

I had stolen a bunch of food from the Muggle village, enough to last us a while, so we were free to spent our time leisurely. We went on with our duelling lessons – not as much as before though, because we were not sure how frequented these parts of the forest were and our duels _did_ inflict a lot of damage on and around us. The more we experimented on each other with Dark Curses, the more curious we got, leading to many long excited discussions deep into the night. I wondered if there had ever been others like us before. Of course Voldemort was incomparable in his knowledge and skills of the Dark Arts, but he had never really shared his knowledge, as far as I knew. The way we learned from each other and together was completely different from my lonesome studies in the library. We pushed one another to new limits day after day, through both challenge or discussion. Was that how Professor Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald had felt at the beginning of their friendship? Save perhaps for the pretence of a Greater Good, which Lucius and I hadn't bothered with.

* * *

We also started breaching more personal topics. I asked Lucius about his upbringing in Wizard Society, his time in Hogwarts and the first Wizarding Wars, never overly intimate questions but he would offer anecdotes from his youth of varying degrees of interest. Learning about life as Pureblood Nobility was fascinating.

"Have I told you about my tenth birthday?" he'd ask as I'd lazily lean against his shoulder by the fire, ignoring the familiar pain, a worn-down book in my hands.

"I don't quite remember the details, was it before or after the French Revolution?" I'd tease, and he'd shoot me a disapproving glare before continuing.

"My great-aunt Livilla Black had given me a Chinese Fingertrap from the court of Emperor Wu, it would close around the fingers of whoever was foolish enough to touch it and could not be opened again unless by the owner. It was not particularly useful, of course, but a nice little toy that I could not await to test on cousin Rodolphus after tea time – annoying imbecile he was, even as a child. However, my father found out about it and the rest of my birthday turned into a hours-long sermon about living up to Pureblood standards, leading by example etcetera etcetera."

"Well, you _should_ not magically entrap your cousins, of course. Did he take the Chinese Fingertrap away?"

"Oh, he did not. He merely suggested I might want to use it on lesser beings, like Muggles or the Weasleys."

I snorted. "Charming," I said.

"Well, how did _you_ celebrate your birthdays?" he asked with an arched brow.

"Oh, roughly the same way." I replied drily. "Save maybe for the whole using Dark Magical Artefacts on young relatives and the sermons about blood purity bit and all that. But we _did_ drink tea, so there's that."

I rarely talked about my life before my imprisonment, it felt just too distant, but Lucius had heard a lot of stories from Draco or whatever spies he had within Hogwarts and made me retell some of them, the one about how I had lead Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest and left her with the Centaurs amongst his favourites.

"Had I known who was responsible for drastically improving the quality of my Ministry meetings, I would have certainly sent a token of gratitude," he said.

"Thank you, Lucius, but I have all the Chinese Fingertraps I need."

It was Lucius' turn to snort. "That _was_ quite the vicious thing to do to someone, though, witch. And here you let me spend weeks, seized with remorse, believing I have tainted the virtue of one third of the _famous_ Golden Trio."

And now I laughed.

"Oh, you'll live, Lucius."

* * *

There were other moments, too, though. For one thing, there was this ever-present pain in my chest now, and my nights were riddled with scenes similar to the one I had dreamed about back in the ruin. Sometimes that made it hard to concentrate around Lucius, however much I chastised myself. For a long time I had seen him as a Death Eater, a prisoner, maybe someone I was stuck with for the time being, but it had only recently occurred to me that he was a man, too. I wasn't as inexperienced and naïve as people always seemed to think me, but still, this was the father of a fellow student, and, by the way, a man who had tortured me and killed one of my best friends, and whom I had tortured and partially mutilated and there _was_ bound to be limits, right? However that did little to change the fact that his heavy scent began making me feel almost intoxicated at times and his deep voice made me shiver, leading to the pain in my chest intensifying until I fled out of the shed, roaming around till it felt safe to return. He'd shoot me questioning glances but never asked what I was doing and at times I thought I saw a glimpse of my own torment in his eyes.

Then there was the nights. If he had noticed my nightmares from the very beginning when I had tried to strangle him back in the cave, it only now occurred to me that he seemed to sleep just as badly as I did. On the rare occasions he'd fallen asleep before me, leaving me with a darkness that felt all strange and different because of the absence of two grey orbs I had become used to, I noticed that he slept fitfully. He seemed troubled and even agitated at times, stirring and twitching, which was a disturbing sight from the usually incredibly composed wizard. I had thought about waking him up again and again but I didn't dare to approach him when he slept for some reason.

Then, one night.

I had woken up well before dawn, barely seeing anything in the dark room. I wondered what had made me wake up, and was instinctively half on my feet, intent on checking the Wards for intruders, when I finally realized what had stirred me awake, as another painful groan pierced the silence. My look quickly fell on Lucius, who seemed to have a bad dream, because on his forehead there was a faint film of sweat and his ruffled hair was all over his face.

Slowly, almost in a trance, I tiptoed over to his bed. My heart was beating loudly, and for some reason I was incredibly afraid of waking him, but he just didn't _look_ right in his state of disarray, so I leaned over, mesmerized by his damaged beauty, to gently stroke the hair out of his face.

As my fingers touched his his skin, he abruptly bolted awake, his hand immediately snatching my wrist roughly, his eyes wild and erratic, and for a few heartbeats I was there, leaned over, my wrist in his hand, paralysed, until I forced myself to whisper: "What's wrong, Lucius?"

And his eyes finally fixed on me and murmured hoarsely: " _You_."

And before I could process his words, he brutally pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me, his mouth crashing on mine, kissing me hungrily until I tasted blood, unsure whether it was his or mine. I struggled weakly, but his grip around me only tightened. I felt one of his hands around my arse now, pressing me into his hard length and I stopped my struggles as the electrifying tension in my lower body started to overshadow the pain in my chest. I found myself moving my hips, rubbing against him, which sent sparkles through my whole body. He groaned, and with one swift movement he had turned us around, putting himself on top of me, his eyes clouded and hungry, one of his hands firm around my throat, the other impatiently moving around my leg, pushing my nightdress upwards to reveal my naked body to the moonlight.

He sat up for a moment and rashly removed his own night-robe and then I could feel his fingers between my folds, eagerly stroking and pushing inside me while he groaned into my neck. I couldn't hold my moans back anymore, wet and trembling with lust and a hint of fear, now.

Suddenly, he pushed himself into me, hard. I screamed from pain and pleasure as his deep groans matched the fast rhythm of his hard thrusts. My arms reached around him desperately, my hands tearing into his skin as his hand roughly caressed my breasts and gripped my hip, crushing me against him. I couldn't speak or even think coherently anymore, I was completely focused on his forceful movements, on his hard length inside me, on the feral groans vibrating through me, on my screams and his sweat and blood underneath my fingers. And then he pressed his lips back on on mine, devouring my screams hungrily and as his thrusts grew even harder and faster and we both trembled in ecstasy as we came.

Slowly, the fog started to lift from his eyes as we lay there naked, covered in sweat and hints of blood and him still inside me. We stared at each other wide-eyed, both waking up from some kind of trance, shock spreading across our faces. We were both still panting and searching each other's eyes for _something_ , maybe for anger or shame or regret or an explanation, but I couldn't find find any kind of answer in his darkened eyes once again. Finally, with a final groan, Lucius let himself fall beside me, his hand still casually entangled in my hair.

I turned around to watch him carefully and finally asked: "Well, Lucius, how do you feel now that you have, as you so elegantly put it, _defiled_ yourself with a Mudblood?"

And Lucius' eyes landed on mine as he said: "Disappointed, clearly."

My heart started beating and with a faltering voice I asked: "Is that so?"

And there it was, the arrogant sneer I hadn't seen in so long, when he answered: "Naturally, young witch, since _I_ was under the impression I had done my best to utterly defile _you."_ And as I sent him the darkest glare I could manage in my naked, worn-out state, he leaned over to place an almost tender kiss on my breast before moving further to my side and painfully biting my neck.

With a nod to the bloody traces I had left on his back, he repeated my words from back then: "Now we are the same, Hermione," he smirked.

And I smirked back: "So we are, you insufferable bastard."


	26. Long Walks in the Forest

Chapter 26 – Long Walks in the Forest

* * *

I woke up the next morning in my own bed, I had made sure to take care of that at least, and with a quick glance towards Lucius' sleeping form I had bolted out of the cabin. I walked for an hour until I slouched down on the roots of an especially large tree. I needed to think clearly, and the further away I was from Lucius, the likelier I was to succeed at it.

What had happened the previous night seemed like a dream now, and I was waking up for good. How the hell did that happen?

 _Let's rehash the facts,_ I thought, trying to bring some structure into the chaos. _A few months ago, we got captured by Snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor, where I was imprisoned and tortured. Then Lucius killed Ron, and Greyback tried to rape me. Then_ I _killed Greyback,_ Imperiused _Lucius and used him to escape from the Manor, punched him and disappeared._ All fine and dandy up until that point, so I went on. _Lucius managed to follow me, we had a fistfight where I managed to punch him again and then I kept him as a prisoner in a cave. I tortured him a bit, cut off half of his fingers, he admitted to maybe killing Harry and I returned most of his fingers. I tried to strangle him in my sleep, then we moved locations and lived in the swamps, were I tortured him some more and we started talking about the Dark Arts and I saw him naked and also we heard of his wife's death_. _Yeah, sounds like something I would do._ I suspected that that was were things had started to go wrong. _Then we moved location again,_ I _began to practise Dark Magic while_ he _began staring at me in the nights. We went on walks together. I almost killed myself and then_ he _almost killed me and we got a somewhat physical. Then I cut him up a bit._ I slowly began to feel like there was something wrong with that series of events, too, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on it.

 _After that we moved locations, we lived in an old dungeon, started having discussions, he asked to teach me Dark Magic, I freed him to send him away and in return he yelled at me and kissed me. We started throwing incredibly dangerous Dark Curses at each other on a regular basis and got all excited talking about_ very _Dark Magic which caused me to have weird nightmares slash sex dreams or whatever involving Lucius and the most hurtful moment in my past life. Finally we came here, I called him a monster and we started discussing our private lives, he had a nightmare and we fucked._

…

 _Huh, so_ that's _how it happened._

I still had the feeling I wasn't making much sense, so I changed my direction of thought. What had happened, had happened, and it hadn't been unpleasant at that, if I was being honest. Even now, hours later, I could still feel his hands on me (which wasn't that much of an accomplishment, he had left dark bruises all over my body), and that strange tingling in my lower half wouldn't go away. I hadn't been overly emotional in my schooldays, and I sure as hell wasn't now. We were, at the end of the day, a man and a woman, stuck together for an unspecified amount of time. Lucius was attractive, even beautiful, no point in denying it, and I was... Well, I was the only other person around. We were both grown-ups, he had made sure of that. The times were hard enough as it was, and I surely wasn't going to refuse that bit of pleasure that was still available to me. In fact, right now I felt like-

I was roughly jerked out of my thoughts as I heard voices quickly approaching me, and with horror I realized I recognized them.

"Always amazing seein' the shock on their faces, innit, Walden?" That was Yaxley. After the night in the Department of Mysteries I'd never forget that repulsive brute.

"Yeh, never gets old. 'Sir, what do you think you're doin' here', they always try to be tough at first," he laughed. That was no doubt Macnair, the evil git that tried to execute Buckbeak.

"Burned that village righ' to the ground, did we?" That kind of superfluous remark, combined with the dull voice, certainly belonged to either Crabbe or Goyle senior.

As they laughed, apparently about having destroyed the nearby Muggle village, my mind was focused on best getting out of there. I cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on myself and a _Silencio_ on my feet, but they were incredibly close already. I had been so lost in thought that I had neglected my surroundings. I would have been cursing myself if I hadn't suspected they were going to take care of that if they found me.

I got up quickly and sneaked around the tree backwards, so I could keep an eye on the approaching Death Eaters. As I had almost passed the tree, preparing to run as soon as I was hidden from their sight, I felt a deep sense of relief.

 _That could have gone wrong,_ I thought, just as I bumped into a fourth figure that had appeared behind me.

 _Oh, fuck._


	27. An all too Familiar Mask

Chapter 27 – An all too Familiar Mask

* * *

I heard a loud "Oof!" and felt a human shape behind me, but as I tried to turn around and disarm whoever that was, I tripped over something and fell to the ground. The something turned out to be a foot, and the someone was none other than Goyle Sr., which meant the other Death Eater hat been the elder Crabbe. Dumb as he might be, his basic reflexes seemed to be working, and within a few seconds I was made visible again, disarmed and wrapped in ropes.

"Look who I found here," he called over to the others, who were coming our direction anyway, alerted by the commotion we had caused. I could have slapped myself for my moment of abstraction, but maybe they wouldn't recognize me and just let me go. And maybe after that I'd meet Voldemort for tea and thank him kindly for his consideration for my privacy.

"If this isn't the Mudblood princess herself," Macnair sneered. "You're quite famous these days, glad you still find the time to wander around in lonely forests." The others fell into his laughter. My mind was racing. I needed to convince them somehow not to immediately Disapparate with me, but even if I somehow managed to break free and get my wand back (my wandless magic would hopefully suffice for that), it was four against one, and if I didn't manage to regain my wand within milliseconds of breaking free, they'd incapacitate me for good and there would be no second chances.

"In times like these, a young girl such as yourself should not walk around alone anyway. You're quite lucky you found us, or something bad might've happened to you." Yaxley now said in a mocking voice, and I decided then that my only safe chance at getting out of this situation was to somehow steer them to our shed and hope that Lucius would react in time. At Yaxley's words the situation with Umbridge came to my mind, probably because I had only just recently told my companion about it, and a plan started to form inside my head. I quickly made my face twitch, subtly enough to make it seem accidental but obvious enough for them to notice.

Of course it was Crabbe who took the bait first.

"Oi, Walden, you sure she's alone? Isn't she the Potter bastard's best friend?" and he expectantly looked at Macnair, who seemed to be the leader of the group.

"Now that you mention it, didn't you say you heard Madam Bellatrix mention she and Potter escaped from the Manor and killed Greyback?" Yaxley added. Famous I was indeed.

They were going into the right direction, but if I seemed to compliant it would raise suspicions, so I started to struggle against the ropes that bound me and said, in an overly dramatical whiny voice: "Please, it's just me, Harry is... He's not here! I swear it's just me!" with just enough panic to contradict my own words.

An evil grin formed on Macnair's face. "Still bent on protecting your friends, I see. Still not a fan of executions," his grin widened. "I don't believe you, little Mudblood. Potter escapes and leaves his only friend to wander alone in a forest? Not bloody likely, if you ask me."

I feigned a sniff and whined: "You have to believe me, please."

Macnair turned to Yaxley and sneered: "What do you think, Yaxley, should we just believe her?" And Yaxley laughed as he raised his wand: " _Crucio!_ " My screams ripped through the silence, and that reaction I didn't have to really fake, though maybe I screamed a good bit louder than I would have if I didn't have to convince them of my suffering. When they lifted the Curse after a few painful minutes, I was panting. Merlin, how I had hoped not to endure that one ever again. I forced myself to sob.

"So, change your mind now, little Mudblood?" Yaxley asked, earning a grunting laugh from Goyle. "Yeah, recovered your memory, have ya?" Crabbe added superfluously, and I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. Instead I sobbed harder, dropping my gaze and stuttered: "P-please, I will tell you e-everything, just please don't – don't hurt me anymore."

Macnair looked really pleased with himself now, and I wondered how they thought I survived my time at Malfoy Manor if a little _Crucio_ was enough to break me, but I wasn't going to complain.

"We- we were trying to hide in a s-shed one hour from here, a-and- I went to gather food and-" I made my voice falter. Macnair was now looking like a fat cat who had just swallowed a delicious little bird and barked: "Goyle, you take the Mudblood. I know that shed, we used to hunt those abhorrent merpeople in the lake from there. The one by the lakeside, is it, little girl?"

And I just nodded through my fake sobs and hoped Lucius would be awake and ready when we came there.

I spent the one hour walk artificially sniffing from time to time, pleading them not to go to the shed and listening to their odious speculations how the Dark Lord would reward them for catching Harry and me.

* * *

When we finally stepped into the shed and the Wards didn't react to the unauthorised intruders, I was sure Lucius had seen us coming and I immediately relaxed. If anyone could get us out of this mess, it was him. I hadn't expected him to sit on a chair in a corner of the shack, though, looking like he owned the place, completely relaxed, like he was expecting visitors.

"Lucius!" Macnair called out, and the four Death Eaters immediately raised their wands, but Lucius didn't even hold his in his hand.

"Walden, Yaxley, long time no see." He curtly nodded in their direction, but didn't even mention Crabbe and Goyle. _Figures_ , I thought.

"I would even go so far as to say it is a pleasure to see you, if your company wasn't of such... filthy nature," and he sent a disgusted look in my direction.

Macnair still looked suspicious. "We heard you fell in the Dark Lord's favour," he said. "Even heard rumours of your defection," he added hostilely.

"Macnair, while the same can't be said about your _friends_ ," -a disapproving look in Crabbe's and Goyle's direction- "I didn't think you to be someone who mindlessly listens to rumours. Do I need to remind you I have been right at our Lord's side from the very beginning? Pray tell, _do_ I need to remind you who you are talking to?" His voice now sounded menacing, enough to send a small shiver down my spine.

"B-but then what are you doing here in this shed, Mr. Malfoy?" Crabbe asked uncertainly.

"As you might now, the Mudblood was held captioned in my estate, and managed to escape," Lucius explained to Macnair, completely ignoring Crabbe. "I managed to follow _it_ , but in a moment of inattentiveness _it_ managed to defeat me and held me captive from then on." He lifted his hand with the missing finger. "I assure you it was an unpleasant experience for more than one reason." Another disgusted look in my direction. "However, it has foolishly decided to trust me, and until you so unexpectedly interrupted me with the... _joy_ of your appearance, I was contemplating whether to hand her over to the Dark Lord directly or to use her to get to the Potter boy. I assume you came to the same conclusion? Or do you fancy early morning walks of the filthier variety these days, Yaxley?"

"Of course not, Mr. Malfoy, sir," Yaxley hastily stammered out. "She just told us she was here with Potter and-"

"Well, she lied, clearly. Rebellious nasty little thing she is, I assure you. You should not attach too much value to her words."

Macnair cleared his throat and said, a bit nervously: "You need to understand, Lucius, we were all in the belief that... If you defected, we could get severely punished... We need you to prove your words, not that I believe you to be a blood traitor, of course, but- you know how things are..."

And Lucius barely nodded, and then he looked at me, his face completely devoid of emotions, his eyes cold and unforgiving and he raised his wand without hesitation and whispered: "Crucio." and I screamed, this time not having to fake anything.


	28. Old Habits Die Hard

Chapter 28 – Old Habits Die Hard

* * *

There I was, bound firmly, wandless and screaming from pain that the only person who could save me was inflicting on me. I felt daggers scraping along underneath my skin, felt flames burning and bones breaking, _oh this pain, why am I still not used to it._ Yaxley had gone easy on me, not knowing my limits and all that, but Lucius didn't make that same mistake. He didn't stop the Curse for more than ten minutes, and through the haze of my agony I could see how one by one, the Death Eaters' expressions changed from smug to uncomfortable until Macnair hesitantly approached Lucius, probably well-aware of the disrespect and mistrust he had shown the aristocratic Pureblood earlier.

"Listen, Lucius, you, uh..." he laughed nervously. "Forget I ever said anything, certainly didn't mean to, righ'? What I, uh, mean to say... Maybe you should go a bit easy on the gi- on the Mudblood for now, wouldn't want her to do a Longbottom, wouldn't be of much use then, you know what I mean, Lucius, don't ya?"

And with a last distasteful look at me, he hesitantly lowered his wand.

He turned to the other wizards.

"Now that we hopefully eliminated any doubts regarding my... position," he snarled, and the Death Eaters eagerly nodded, "Get that _thing_ out of my sight, if you please. There is a small pantry in the back of the shed, that should be more than enough. Make sure to secure the door, though. Wouldn't want her to get these ridiculous ideas about freedom in her little head once again, would we?"

He walked over to me, and I could only just manage not to flinch at his presence. He was once again the cruel tyrant I had known him as in the past.

He leaned over to me, his wand now lowered, his hands hidden by the long sleeves of his robe, and said, his voice hard like steel: "Listen to me closely, Mudblood. I am aware of your annoying reluctance to abide by any kind of rules, but you would do well to listen to me just this one time. _Do_ not _try to leave the pantry, or you_ will _regret it._ " And then he strode past me, barging into me, and he spared me no second glance.

Crabbe and Goyle nervously hurried to follow his orders, throwing me roughly into the cabin and with one last kick from Goyle, they closed the door magically. My thoughts were all over the place, and I had a hard time processing what had just happened. I was still hurting and twitching from the Cruciatus Curse and having a hard time thinking coherently ( _one way or another, Lucius is quite proficient at making me lose that ability,_ crossed my mind before I managed to stop it), and before I could closely examine my strange lack of doubt towards Lucius, three things happened at once.

First of all, I felt a distinct hardness against my arm as I struggled against the magical ropes, and with a gasp recognized it as my wand, carefully tucked into its holster.

Second of all, I heart a mind-blowingly loud explosion in the adjoining room, one that made the earth quake and the walls shake.

Third, the ropes around my body disappeared, just like that.

* * *

I sat on the floor numbly for a while after, waiting for my hearing to return and the world to look right way up and stable again. The echo of the explosion was resonating in my ears.

I managed to get on my feet at the third try, checking myself for injuries, but apparently the Protection Charms on the door meant to imprison me had also kept me safe.

When I was sure I was in the state to fight, if necessary, I started to disable the Wards on my door. Just like Crabbe and Goyle, they were strong but primitive, and I had lifted them within a few minutes. I opened the door and found the shed in a shambles. The dust hadn't settled down yet and there was cluster all over the room, the furniture completely destroyed, and, most importantly, five unconscious human frames on the floor. _Good God, Lucius,_ I thought. _Dramatic much?_

Quickly I secured the four Death Eaters, stacking them neatly in one corner and confiscating their wands. I stacked a number of Containment Charms on them, just to be sure.

Then, with a sigh, I walked towards Lucius, still lying on the floor, covered in splinters and powder. I pointed my wand in his direction and cast an _Rennervate_ on him. Slowly his eyelids began to flutter, and as I could see awareness return to his eyes, I kicked him in the ribs, hard, once, and held out my hand to him. "You alright?" I asked him, not sounding overly worried even in my ears.

"Peachy," he forced a smile. "You look like shit, though, my dear. Run into some Death Eaters or something?"

I snorted and jerked him up to his feet.

I shrugged. "Just ran into an old acquaintance of mine. You might have seen him around, Lucius?" I asked coolly. "He's tall, blond, has this arrogant look imprinted on his face. Has a penchant for torturing people, too, and is missing one, possibly two fingers?"

Lucius' face twitched ever so slightly.

I stood up on tiptoes, placed a quick kiss on his dusty cheek and said: "I'll talk to him later. Now though, Lucius, we have guests. I heard you pride yourself on your hospitality?"

"Indeed I do," he gave me a broad smile, and it was a truly infectious one, too.


	29. Decisions, Decisions, and a Serene Tune

Chapter 29 – Decisions, Decisions, and a Serene Tune

* * *

"Circe's tits, Lucius, they're called Unforgivables, not Unexchangeables." I said stubbornly.

"Your language, young one," he scolded automatically, and added: "Think about it, Hermione, this is an exceptional opportunity. No one appreciates your beautiful symbolic approach as much as I do, rest assured. But we _will_ settle this argument _now_."

"Fine," I huffed. "But only with Yaxley, I get to decide what we do with the other ones. You _owe_ me." I concluded with a miserable glare, excitement already making its way through my body and I felt blood rush to my cheeks.

We were sitting near the pantry where the explosion hadn't caused as much damage, leaning on the wall. Together, we had decided on some rather delightful ideas of what to do with our prisoners, who were still lying unconscious in a corner of the partially restored shed. According to Lucius, it would take them a few hours to wake up, he had used a rather curious combination of Dark and regular Magic. We were both relatively intact, if a bit ruffled, and with our animated discussions the tingling feeling had returned and turned into that eager tension between my thighs. I was positively jittery.

But my ever-scheming companion didn't let me off the hook that easily, of course.

"You know, Hermione..." he said ostensibly absent-minded. "I've had quite the pleasant night, as you might recall, and I _was_ expecting an equally pleasant morning..." he trailed off, and I forced myself not to scowl at him. Would that insufferable wizard ever drop his schemes and games?

"You know how I spent my morning instead?" He asked me, but I was set on not giving him the satisfaction, so I kept my mouth shut.

"I was greeted by a horde, yes, I said _horde_ , of _Death Eaters_ -"

"What does that Mark on your arm stand for, again?" I interrupted dryly, but he ignored me.

"-who went on to question not only my loyalty to the Dark Cause but to crown it all doubted my integrity as a Pureblood-"

"Oh, how _dare_ they-"

"-and then I had to take care of an ungrateful prisoner and blow myself up in the process-"

"If only there was someone you could have _Crucio'd_ for that, Lucius," I drawled.

"Too little, too late," he said regretfully, before grabbing me by my hips and pulling on top of his lap. "I'm afraid I require further compensation." He murmured his last words against my neck and I shivered, for once out of witty replies.

"But the prisoners, Lucius," I breathed half-coherently as one of his hands started to push my robe upwards, while the other trailed along my collarbone, making its way down to my breasts.

"They will be out of it for at least one more hour, princess," he murmured in my ear, and I whimpered softly as he pushed me against him, making me feel his obvious stiffness between the dampness of my legs.  
"I am afraid you have no choice in the matter," he said, before pulling me into a hungry, intoxicating kiss. And as his hand started to push into me between my thighs, first with slow, teasing movements and then with accelerating thrusts, and I poured my desperate moans into his mouth, where they mixed with his feverish groans, I found myself inclined to agree.

* * *

A while later, we found ourselves dazed and panting, with foggy eyes and bruised lips and skin, sunken against the wall, me still on top of Lucius, slumped against his broad chest.

"Happy now?" I asked breathlessly.

"...for the moment," He conceded, and with a chuckle I playfully bit in the tender skin of his neck, making him pleasantly squirm against me.

A barely noticeable stir in the corner of the shed ripped us out of our bliss. Quickly, albeit not without swaying slightly, I rose to my feet and pulled the robe over my head, and so did the elder wizard at my feet.

"Looks like it's time," I said calmly, with half a smile on my lips.

"Mhhhhhm," he hummed and pulled me into a last fierce kiss, tearing my upper lip open. "You look thoroughly fucked, witch." And with that he lazily walked over to his former colleagues, leaving me behind slightly flustered and with the repulsive urge to giggle.

"Macnair," I addressed him as I noticed whose stirring had interrupted us. "You seem awfully bent on constantly getting in my way." I forced the satiated bliss out of my voice. "It's getting on my nerves, and I don't intend on letting you make a habit out of it."

"What are you going to do about it, Mudblood?" he sneered, before his eyes turned to Lucius and widened noticeably. "Lucius, what's the meaning of th-"

But I silenced him with a quick flick of my wand.  
"Quiet now, you brutish arsehole. I've had enough of your conversation skills to last me a lifetime. Lucius, do me the favour and announce my verdict."

My tall companion drew himself up to his full height, donning a serious expression and pronounced, in a mock-ceremonial voice: "For your professional and private work as an executioner, _we_ have deemed it appropriate to repay you by equal means. Therefore, you will be executed traditionally by sword. By courtesy of my lovely assistant here, of course." I snorted.

Macnair started to agitatedly yell at me as I pulled the dagger out of my pouches, playfully balancing it in my hand. "This might take a bit longer, Macnair, because you see, a sword is hard to come by in these days." I lifted the Silencing Charm as his vulgar ramblings and threats turned into screams and pleas. I had made Lucius cast a series of Curses which would keep Macnair alive and fully conscious as long as possible.

* * *

After that, Lucius and I had a lot of fun with Crabbe and Goyle, of which we each _Imperiused_ one, making them fight against each other (since they had refused to think for themselves during their entire lives, it seemed an appropriate punishment). It was a bit like playing chess, since the fighting skills of our puppets depended entirely on our own concentration and strength, though a bit more blood was involved and we both took it slow. In the end, Lucius won, but that didn't bother me much.

With Yaxley, I had given in to Lucius' demands to settle our old dispute once and for all and we took turns with _Obliviating_ and _Crucioing_ him. In the end, we had both been a bit right. Yes, it was amusing seeing Yaxley's confused expression each time he experienced after-pains of a Curse he didn't remember and watching him go from confusion and hope to utter desperation again and again, but after two hours his face turned blank, and he almost stopped responding to interactions.

"See, Lucius, you've broken him," I said, unable to keep myself from rubbing it in. "That's what happens when you don't listen to me."

I got an annoyed growl in return. I saw Lucius lifting his arm to cast the last Cruciatus Curse that would undoubtedly send Yaxley into catatonia or a Killing Curse, but I stopped him unexpectedly. Something had occurred to me. It was the conclusion to the thoughts that had kept me busy for the past weeks, asking myself over and over again whose side I was on, what my role was going to be in the Wizarding War that was still causing havoc through the lands. I still wasn't completely sure on what I was going to do even now, but I knew that on the long run, inactivity wasn't for me. Besides, I had a score to settle.

I slowly wandered over to the mumbling Yaxley and under my companion's questioning glance, I turned him around and tore the back of his robe open, revealing his skin to me. With my tongue between my teeth, as I always did when I needed to really concentrate, I started carving words into Yaxley's back, using that Dark Curse that caused never-healing wounds. When I was done, the letters read: "Best wishes, from Mudblood to Half-Blood". My writing looked a bit shaky, maybe I should have asked Lucius to do it, but I had always felt the need to finish my projects by myself.

"Lucius, we need to change location," I said. "Your _friends_ were here on a mission, and it's only a matter of time before someone will be sent to investigate their whereabouts, or the Muggle police shows up to investigate the destruction of that village we saw on our first day here. Let's pack our stuff."

He arched a brow at me. "What about Yaxley, are you not going to kill him?"

"Of course not," I smiled sweetly. "If I kill him, who will live to tell the tale?"

And with a happy tune of my lips, feeling more serene than I had in a long time, I started gathering our belongings. It felt good to take things into my own hands again. I stole a glance of Lucius' tall, elegant frame.

 _Oh, and_ that _feels good, too._


	30. The Intoxicating Exile of the Defected

Chapter 30 – The Intoxicating Exile of the Defected

* * *

Our next next home was an abandoned train station in the middle of nowhere – it was a bit eerie, honestly, but who was I to complain. We found an old office that we cleaned up a bit and got comfortable in. It was well into the evening, and we'd had an exhausting day, so after taking the usual precautions we went straight to bed – each of us in their own corner, I made sure of that. Lucius had sent me a strange look and kept silent once again, but his moonlight gaze never left my face in the dark.

* * *

The next morning, we got up early. We didn't talk much during our meagre breakfast, but my mind was running at full speed, replaying the events of the other day obsessively, as had become my habit during my time in Malfoy Manor. Once again I was reminded of the way other senses were sharpened when one of them failed, and in this case I had apparently traded my heart for my mind, finally living up to the image others had created of me over the years.

I kept going back to the moment Lucius had tortured me in our shed, and how it somehow hadn't made me doubt his intentions for even one moment. Now that I thought about it, we'd never _had_ that conversation, and though it was clear Lucius had changed his attitude he had never explicitly stated that he had defected. I decidedly made my way over to where he was lazily leaning against the counter.

"Lucius, I need you to explain a few things to me." He seemed almost, _almost_ startled by my words but looked at me expectantly.

"I understand that you have been raised with Pureblood values," I started to summarise, and Lucius remained quiet, used to my monologues by now. "Your House is part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and even amongst those ,you are in the highest circles. I have memorised the maxim of the Malfoy's during my time in the drawing room, your crest hung right in the spot where Bellatrix would usually torture me. _Sanctimonia vincet semper_ , if I'm not mistaken, Purity always conquers." That was part one of my thoughts, and I looked at the wizard, who nodded affirmatively.

"You have been a Death Eater during the first Wizarding Wars, claiming to have been _Imperiused_ later on, but let's not delude ourselves. I have read about your father, too. Apparently he was involved in making the first Muggle-Born Minister resign prematurely, possibly by cursing or poisoning him. Of course, there is no proof for it, but that means nothing when Malfoys are involved, no offence."

"None taken," he said smugly. Proud of it, too, the arrogant bastard.

"I understand that Blood Purity has a long and strict history within your family. Your sister in law, to say the least, was burned off the family tree for marrying a Muggle-Born. So please, Lucius, enlighten me as to how that goes together with torturing Death Eaters and, uh, defiling Mudbloods."

Lucius seemed to take a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"There are two things that are commonly associated with the House of Malfoy," he finally offered. "Blood Purity, and most importantly, power. We have been involved in any major and most minor plots in the History of Magic and even throughout Muggle history. We were kingmakers and political puppeteers. My namesake Lucius Malfoy I is believed to have been an aspirant for the hand of Queen Elisabeth I of England – in the 11th century, my ancestor Armand Malfoy was gifted our family estate by King William the Conqueror for both his help in the Norman conquest of England as well as what I suspect to be various... private favours. Assassinations, _Imperiuses_ , you know the drill," he added at my questioning glance.

"We have rarely been in the centre of power but one was sure to find us in the shadows surrounding it. When the Dark Lord first started gathering allies, my father sensed that he would rise to great power, and his ideals matched ours. It made sense associating ourselves with him and it was a pleasure at that. He was different in those days. He _looked_ human, first of all. We were a small circle of notable wizards bound by no moral obligations. We met in secret, only the most proficient were admitted to the Inner Circle. We researched and discussed and travelled together, not unlike we do now, safe perhaps for the fact that more Muggles seemed to... disappear around our little group."

I was a bit startled by our ventures being compared to the early days of the Death Eaters, but I couldn't really refuse the similarities either. The only thing we were missing, really, was a goal. And while Muggle-Borns, Muggles and blood traitors had been the declared foes of the Death Eaters, between me being a Muggle-Born witch, part of the former Golden Trio, now apprentice of the Dark Arts and him being an arrogant Pureblood, kind-of defected Death Eater and possibly former Blood-Supremacist, not to speak of Dark Wizard, our enemy list currently included... everyone.

"The Dark Lord slowly started revealing his plans, and they confirmed the rightness of mine and my father's decision. Once again we found ourselves in the inner circle of a future leader, one that would restore our privileged position within the Wizarding world that had been weakened ever since the Ministry started enforcing certain Laws, investigating certain cases, all with the kind support of Albus Dumbledore." He couldn't hide the flush of distaste in his face.

"The war started, and we were succeeding. We slowly replaced our eager studies of the Dark Arts and magic in general with the activities we are known for these days." There was only a small hint of regret in his voice, and it seemed to concern the neglect of their studies.

"I did not realise it back then, I was too caught up in fantasies of restoring the order of the old world, with the Dark Lord as a leader and me as his first knight, but in reality I was starting to forget the ways of my ancestors and the values of Slytherin. We were drunk with power and let go of all pretences of subtlety and persuasion, we started making more enemies than necessary while the ties with our allies were thin and kept up only by fear. Some of our most avid followers were a disgrace to the name of wizard. When the Dark Lord fell, gone were my hopes of re-establishing our old glory and it took all kinds of persuasion and _humiliation_ to avoid the fate of the degenerate remains of the Noble House of Black. I even considered gaining the Potter boy's trust, for many believed him to be a future Dark Lord himself, but I let go of that notion quickly after meeting him personally."

He fell silent for a minute or two, and I patiently waited.

"Then the Dark Lord came back, and I found myself in a dangerously unstable position. I had played the Ministry's lapdog for too long and I saw this as my chance to restore my honour and make those who had disrespected me pay. Instead, I found that my position as a lapdog had not changed, only the lap I was crawling into had. I was severely punished for my behaviour between the wars and my _failures_ that followed." His face flinched at the memories of his punishments, but his voice remained neutral and unaffected.

"I did not particularly mind the pain, though I could have done without it. But then I was sent to Azkaban following the events in the Department of Mysteries, and was kept there for nearly one year." For the first time there was something akin to hurt in his face as he went on.  
"Azkaban changes people, Hermione. I was stripped of everything that defined me and it took all that I had to hold onto my last bits of sanity. Once again I was tortured, degraded, I aged by years within the span of a short time. And do you know what I got in return, Hermione?" He didn't await my answer. "The Dark Lord stripped me of my wand _in front_ of my wife and my son, in front of his other followers that should have stood way beneath me. He occupied my house and sent my son on a mission that was bound to fail, only to further my humiliation. I had believed that after years of holding back, of degrading myself, the time had come to assume my rightful position right behind the throne, and instead I became the lowest of servants, a house-elf, lower even in the regards of the Dark Lord than that slimy almost-Squib rat that had betrayed the Potters. I realized the Death Eaters had long strayed from their original path, and so had I."

"How does that go together with renouncing all kinds of power and joining a Mudblood, though?" I forced myself to ask over his obvious humiliation. I had to gain clarity of his motivations and loyalties once and for all. Lucius fell silent once again, this time for almost half an hour, before a sigh escaped his lips.

"It has never truly been about Blood Purity, I suppose. We, _I,_ despise the weak, that still stands. The masses that cower in fear, swayed by greed and opportunism and sweet lies of safety, they are _nothing_ without a strong leader. They choose to let others think for them, to exchange their freedom for a bit of comfort. But you are not weak, there is no sense in fooling myself."

He looked at me now, his face serious but there was something eager in it, too.  
"I would tell you not to mistake my change of hearts for regret, but I think you are aware that this is not about me having seen the light, seeking redemption or having changed sides. All my life I have followed, followed rules and followed my betters, all in the name of the pursuit of power, but while that has brought me nothing but humiliation, you have suddenly presented me with an option I had never considered, a path no Malfoy has gone down in a long time. We have always been on someone's side, and while power remains the highest virtue in my eyes... perhaps it is the wrong approach, at times, to have the _concept_ of power defined by others. I have taken everything away from you, much like it was done to me, yet you... are undoubtedly powerful still."

I took some time to process his words. His recollections had been immensely fascinating, and I, too, found myself making connections between our fates that seemed so different on the first glance but bore so many similarities if you looked underneath the surface. And evidently, we had come to the same conclusions overall, too.

"You know, Lucius," I said in mock-disappointment. "This could have been such a beautiful story about a pure-hearted, innocent Gryffindor girl making a vicious Death Eater Slytherin recognize the errors of his ways through the power of love."

"Unfortunately, though, I can't seem to find any pure-hearted, innocent girls around these parts," he sneered at me. "And besides, I am much fonder of our story, anyway."

A pang of pain in my heart, a bit of blood in my cheeks. He reached over to me to pull me into him, his movements devoid of the fondness in his words, and as he started undressing me impatiently, eagerly, I thought that maybe we were drunk with power, too.

My last coherent thought was that I might not be on anyone's side anymore, might have left the safeness of my pre-destined path for a self-imposed exile of desolation and loneliness, but that I didn't mind the loneliness when I could share it with Lucius.


	31. Times of Peace and Frightening Beauty

Chapter 31 – Times of Peace and Frightening Beauty

* * *

The train station was simultaneously the most civilized and the most desolate place we had lived in so far. There were a few houses nearby, but they had been abandoned at least one century ago, leaving an eerie ghost town behind. Lucius and I explored it together, it almost seemed like the villagers had left overnight. Some tables appeared to be ready laid with a dinner that had never taken place, a few windows were left open. We found books, toys and clothes dropped on the floor like someone had just disappeared right in the middle of reading or dressing themselves. There were no corpses or bones, however, nor were there traces of a fight or a fire, so we had no choice but to wander through the dead village in wonder. I felt ripped out of space and time, not having talked to Muggles or Wizards alike in a long time, safe perhaps for the Death Eaters we had captured, but that hardly counted as a conversation. We were moving around like we were in a trance, admiring the beauty and desolation around us, losing any sense of time and nearly forgetting the world around us. With the abandoned village it wasn't hard to believe we were the only humans left in the world, and we were caught in our routine, nearly forgetting we had ever lived a very different life.

We explored the fields around the station, we even found a little forest. The lack of civilisation had made the animal and plant population grow exponentially, so we had no trouble finding food whenever we remembered to care about it.

* * *

Our duels and experimentations had become lazier. The practise we had gotten with Macnair's little gang had satiated us for the time being, and we steadily returned to less aggressive, more refined spellwork. We were completely in tune with each other, Lucius still my superior, but me catching up quickly, and I believe he had improved greatly over the last few weeks, too. The regret in his face when he had told me how the early Death Eaters had started to neglect their studies made more and more sense to me. There was just something different in exploring magic for its own sake instead of survival-driven necessity. We didn't focus exclusively on the Dark Arts anymore, and instead started beautifully combining the different branches of magic. I excelled in Transfigurations, and there was something incredibly light and joyful about using it. I conjured rocks to fly in Lucius' direction during battle and transformed them into magic-absorbing daggers in the last second, weakening his shield, while simultaneously sending a Freezing Curse through the ground that caught him off-guard. I had to unfreeze him for two hours after that, half-heartedly suppressing a wide grin the entire time, because my victories over him were rare.

He made me pay a day later, when he drowned me in a thick web of Dark Curses that kept me on my toes to the point I neglected my defence enough for him to let a Confundus Charm slip through, which I hadn't been expecting. He didn't lift the Charm for half an hour after that, thinking it fair in regards to what I had done to him the other day. The joke was on him, though, when he begrudgingly told me afterwards that I kept asking him what had happened to his hair over and over again for five minutes before he had decided to silence me.

Still, it was a slightly embarrassing experience and I started to train myself in Occlumency once more, set on never making me vulnerable to psychic attacks ever again. My mind seemed the only thing left inside me, and the thought of losing it, even for a short amount of time, disturbed me greatly. I never let my guards down after that.

* * *

There is this strange phenomenon when you have known someone for a while and your familiarity with them slowly replaces the first impression they made on you.

Within the years, I had painted quite a few images of Lucius Malfoy, none of them rosy so far. When I had met him for the first time in Diagon Alley, he was the father of Draco Malfoy, the logical prequel to the slimy git I had known Draco to be. To me, he was a representative of a bigoted, arrogant, wealthy fraction of Adult Society, which I didn't see myself as a part of. I saw him like any child would see a mean grown-up, in a way.

After the events of our fourth year, that image suddenly shifted to what was finally revealed to us in the Department of Mysteries. Gone were childish school rivalries, but what went with them was a certain distance between us, too. I was no longer just the insufferable know-it-all schoolgirl, he no longer the corrupt father of a bully. I remember Lucius slowly stalking in our direction between the dark prophecy-filled shelves, all pretences of the past years gone. When he finally lifted his Death Eater mask to erase any last doubt over his identity, I suddenly realized with full force that our childhood was gone. This was no longer about better grades or Slytherins and Gryffindors. This marked the moment when I was forced to understand that a time had started when our opinions and origins would no longer be met with insults, but with death. The man I met in battle that day was not merely someone's father. He had forfeited more than one mask on that fateful night.

As I met him again, in Malfoy Manor, he had acquired two more faces. His eyes bloodshot and frantic, his movements revealing a hint of his brokenness – the untouchable noble no longer existed, and yet he became my tormentor and finally my destroyer. I had wondered how someone so broken could still inflict so much pain, could still muster up enough strength to hate.

When Lucius became my prisoner, I answered that question for myself. During the last weeks, I had meticulously destroyed all last remains of his masks and his perfection. We were both out of roles to play and there was no audience to watch us pretend anyway. For the first time, we were equals, moreover we were on the same side – or rather... he was on _my_ side. And with the recent changes to our relationship...

So in the end, I had had many first meetings with my now companion and teacher. There were still times when I would look at him and see a flash of what he used to be, always accompanied by the sudden urge to disarm him and hurt him or run away, but these moments were rare and far between. And then there were those _other_ moments, where I'd see yet a new face. Moments between our almost playful duels, or when we'd wander around and I'd steal a glance of his face as he was lost in thought, but most of all they came in the dark, when I'd find myself lost and caught in his wild embrace. Then I'd see something in him that filled me with more fear than the sudden flashbacks, more pain than any curses he could land on me. It made me want to run away, too, but time after time again I'd find myself unable to.

I thought of this new face as his most frightening and yet most beautiful mask. Until one night, as I lay alone in my corner of the room, unable to sleep, listening to my own painful heartbeats, I realized that perhaps it wasn't a mask after all.


	32. Pretty Pictures of Open Hearts

**Thank you for your reviews, lovelies, both by guests and users. I do cherish them.**

* * *

Chapter 32 – Pretty Pictures of Open Hearts

* * *

If there was something I could count on these days, it was that every moment of peace and happiness came back with a vengeance.

We had spent almost two weeks at the train station, and I had been closer to being happy than I had thought possible. On our tenth day, I found a little natural hot spring in a cave, and with no Lucius in sight, I happily got rid of my robes and eased myself down from the stone into the water. Many of my wounds started terribly burning from the contact, but I didn't mind the pain at all. There was hardly any light in there, but I decided against casting a _Lumos_ and instead sat there in the darkness, humming absent-mindedly. I never let go of my wand these days, and soon I found myself swinging it around lazily, conjuring little glowing butterflies and setting them ablaze moments later and creating beautiful patterns of light and fire. I hadn't used magic this light-heartedly for a long time, and my smile grew wider and wider, my dissonant humming louder and louder. I conjured little birds, similar to those I had created to attack Ron in fifth year and finally started to paint beautiful pictures with magic light from my memories. Castles, forests, they were just scenes, but they seemed all so very familiar and important, if a bit lonely – not one face escaped from the tip of my wand. _How could I ever forget the beauty of magic,_ I thought to myself. _My mind isn't all that is left of me, after all. All these wonders are_ mine.

And as my thoughts shifted, and my heart started to flutter in joy and excitement, something else stirred inside me. _No, there's still some of me left after all_ , I conceded and gradually the light swirling around me turned silver, the fluttering of my heart grew painful and the restlessness that had started to grow inside me over the last days became unbearable.

Then something strange, something very close to fear, made me jump out of the water, dressing myself hurriedly. I bolted out of the dark cave into a night that was just as dark and ran through the forest, never minding the underwood leaving scratches in my face and on my arms and legs. I finally left the trees behind me, crossing a barren field to reach the first old houses of the abandoned village, when without a warning something jerked me into one of the dark houses and slammed the door behind me.

* * *

I was halfway through all kinds of Disarming and Protection Spells when my wand was brutally ripped out of my hand and I was slammed against the door behind me so forcefully it made my head spin. It was only then I suddenly recognized _his_ smell, wondering how I hadn't noticed earlier, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room to catch a glimpse of his silvery hair.

"Lucius, what-" but immediately his hand covered my mouth while his other hand gripped my hair. He crashed into me, bending forward so he could bury his face in the side of my neck where he started kissing me feverishly, almost drawing blood with his teeth. His hand made its way downwards from my mouth, alongside my neck down to my breasts, which he roughly kneaded. He groaned into the sensible wet flesh underneath my jawline, and I couldn't help but let a soft moan escape from my lips as my struggles weakened. His one hand still held my head firmly in place while his other hand now eagerly pushed between my legs, forcing them apart with his stronger ones.

"What the fuck, Luc-" I whispered, but abruptly stopped when he brushed my robe out of the way with a quick movement and his hand started eagerly pushing into my damp knickers. I shivered against him, and my struggling slowly faded away under the strokes of his skilful fingers.

As I started whimpering in frustration he covered my mouth with a hungry kiss. His fingers finally slid into my knickers and pushed into the wetness of my folds and I was struggling for completely different reasons, more than a little unsteady on my feet by now. He was merciless, though, and with his heavy body pinning me firmly against the door and his lips greedily stealing my moans, I had no choice but to surrender myself to that sweet ache. He rubbed and pushed inside me until the tingling feeling between my thighs reached an unbearable strength and finally pushed me over the edge.

I hardly had the time to recover, for Lucius stepped back for a second to rid us both of our robes and immediately pressed into me again. Through my dizziness I could feel his throbbing length between my legs and the next moment he lifted me up, holding me at eye level with his arms underneath my legs and thrust inside me. I yelped in surprise and my moans became pleading as I rested my face against his tensed shoulder. His thrusts were slow in the beginning, but quickly increased in strength and pace as his groans grew louder. My body was repeatedly slammed into the door behind us but I didn't care, I was too caught up in the violent pleasure and soon screamed his name in mindless ecstasy. I felt another orgasm build up and desperately wrapped my arms around him while he fucked me senseless until I finally came undone once again. He started ramming into me even harder then, to the point it hurt, but I didn't care, I was completely lost in delight. Finally, with a few last, hard thrusts he came inside me and we stood there, panting, beyond sanity, me still lifted up against the wall, him sunken into me.

* * *

It took us a few minutes to clear our minds, and finally we lowered ourselves down to the floor, covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

As much of a challenge as it posed to speak at the moment, I managed to utter: "What the hell was that, Lucius?"

He looked at me, fighting to regain control over his expression. His next words were spoken so silently I hardly heard them.

"You were gone."

Somehow, these three words felt like a slap in the face. There was a certain rawness to his voice, and for a heartbeat I was reminded of that strange fear that had overcome me in the cave. So was _that_ the cause of it? Had I, too, panicked when I realized he wasn't with me? It sounded pathetic even in my head.

"Yes, so?" I tried to make myself sound unaffected.

He gave me another long, serious look.

"I assumed you had left. For good."

He caught me completely off-guard with that.

"Why... why would you think that, Lucius?" I asked.

In reality, I shouldn't have been too confused. I had thought about running away from him more than one time, and there wasn't a real and proper reason for us to stay together except for the fact we didn't really have anywhere else to go. Come to think of it, it _was_ strange that the thought of just disappearing had seemed so absurd to me.

"Young witch," he sighed. "We have spent enough time in each other's company for me to see certain things, even if you do not talk about them. I know you grow restless whenever we stay in the same place for an extended period of time. And it would not be far-fetched to think unchanged company had the same effect on you."

I tried to object half-heartedly, for I was too confused about this sudden confrontation and just as confused about the way it made me question myself. But he raised his hand anyway, interrupting whatever weak answer I might've come up with.

"But most importantly of all, I have thought a lot about what you did in the shed two weeks ago, witch. We have lived in some sort of bubble for quite some time now, but what you engraved into Yaxley's body was nothing less than a challenge." There was no room for uncertainty or disagreement in what he said.  
"I have told you how I feel about my old affiliations, but we have never discussed how you feel about them. I should have asked, perhaps, but..." He trailed off.

"Back in the shed you have made a decision, I understand that much. You have never expressed the wish to return to the Order, but of course there is nothing keeping you from going back, save perhaps for me, so it would be... _understandable_ if you-"

While he spoke I found myself shocked by how well Lucius seemed to know me, seemed to have _thought_ about me even. But when he finally got closer to the reason of his worries, I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Lucius, I am _hardly_ in the position to fight for the _good_ side anymore, am I?" He had seemed uncharacteristically worried, and regarded logically, his assumptions were reasonable enough, but returning to the Order to assume my fight against the Dark Forces seemed so surreal, so _wrong_ to me now I couldn't prevent myself from laughing at the thought.  
"I'm sorry I did not clarify this earlier. There is nothing left on either side for me, too," I said, now serious.

"And yet you did not provoke the Dark Lord mindlessly, witch. Do not try to take me for a fool." It was a statement, not a question. I paused for a moment, and when I finally spoke, I said the words I had been looking for over the last weeks:

"I will hunt him, and if I have to, I will kill him, that is my decision. I might be the only one left who knows how to do it. But I won't do it for the Order, and I won't do it for anyone else."

I did not need to explain myself further, I knew he understood.

I had to force my next words out, realising only now what I had been avoiding.

"Will you come with me?" I asked coldly. Whatever strange, own reasons had led me to my decision, they did not apply to him.

"I will stay with you as long as you will have me, Hermione." There was no hesitation in his answer, and for a moment I was too shocked to speak.

"B-but why?" I stammered.

"Because _he_ deserves to suffer, and he deserves to die. But most of all-" he paused.

"Most of all, there is no place for you in the world he is trying to build. And I-" He stopped once again. _And you are_ my _place in this world,_ I thought so suddenly that it didn't seem like my thought at all. I didn't ask him to finish his sentence, didn't dare to, so I interrupted this dangerous train of thought at once.

"I know this war has stopped being _our_ war some time ago, and what I'm about to do doesn't have anything to do with you, Lucius. I find it... hard to connect to many aspects of my past, but I know there are still remnants of yours. This is not _your_ battle to win, it's not _your_ side or anyone's at all. But truth be told, it'd be nice to have you with me. Still, it's going to be hard, and I don't think I have to mention this, but it's going to be incredibly dangerous..."

I anxiously looked at my silent companion. Somehow, despite my words about the dangers of what lay ahead, there were only two things I feared right now – one of them being that he would leave, deciding the cause was not worth the risks, deciding _I_ was not worth it. The other being that he would stay with me, thus sealing our connected fates once and for all, leaving me with uncomfortable questions, involuntary thoughts and an aching heart.

Finally he sighed.

"Hermione, why do you still think you can scare me away? I think I have sufficiently proven that I would _kill_ for you."

"That's hardly a point, Lucius," I giggled, suddenly feeling relieved. "You'd kill for the sole reason that there was nothing interesting in the **Daily Prophet** , too."

Lucius answered with one of his rare, raspy laughs. But then he got serious, and with a rough movement gripped my arms to pull me on top of his lap, forcing me to face him and recognize the unsmiling form of his face.

"I would die for you, too," he whispered.

Gone was my light-heartedness, but even though the pain in my chest now felt as though it was trying to rip me open from the inside, I didn't resist when he held me there, didn't resist even when he pulled me against him and melted us together once again.

No matter how much it hurt me to keep him with me, that night in the abandoned house I understood that leaving was simply no longer an option for me.


	33. Plotting and Scheming

Chapter 33 – Plotting and Scheming

* * *

"...and we found out the locket of Salazar Slytherin had been stolen by Regulus Black, brother of Sirius Black, who then died, leaving the locket to the Black house-elf Kreacher. Since Kreacher could not destroy it, the locket remained untouched until that twat Mundungus Fletcher stole it, and in turn lost it to, wait for it, Dolores Umbridge-"

"Well, Hermione, that is _exactly_ where I would have expected a part of the Dark Lord's soul to be," Lucius sneered, and I suppressed a chuckle and said sweetly:

"Of course, Lucius, we should have just asked you! At the time, though, I had completely forgotten you were an _expert_ in keeping track of Horcruxes."

Lucius looked like he had just eaten one of Hagrid's rock cakes and I quickly proceeded.

"We broke into the Ministry, no, Lucius, we did _not_ kill Umbridge, and stole the locket. Ron disappeared for some time and when he returned he somehow retrieved the sword of Godric Gryffindor which Harry used in second year to kill the Basilisk. Apparently Basilisk venom is one of the few things that can destroy Horcruxes, and so we were able to use the sword."

"I assume this is the sword that got my- that got Bella so agitated? The one you _sustained_ was a mere copy?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, funny you should mention it. I have done some thinking about just that, and there was something I couldn't get out of my mind. When Bellatrix thought we had broken into her Gringotts vault, she went completely mental- I mean, uh, you know what I mean. The thought seemed to disturb her greatly, even frighten her, and there is only one thing that scares that madwoman." I paused.

"I believe there is a Horcrux in her vault, one she might not be aware of, but after your little... _accident_ , I have no doubt the Dark Lord has made it utterly clear that whatever he gave her was of greatest importance and to be kept secret. Of course those are only speculations, but..."

"We will go," Lucius said impatiently, interrupted me brusquely. "Your guess might be as good as anyone's knowledge, and we have to start somewhere. What precisely will we be looking for?"

"Professor Dumbledore talked to Harry about possible Horcruxes. There was his diary, which you know of, that is more of an exception though, its value being emotional rather than historical. Then we have a family heirloom, the ring that Professor Dumbledore destroyed and that ultimately killed him, in a way – I'll explain it later. We got rid of the locket, as I told you. Those are known and destroyed Horcruxes." I inhaled deeply.

"There is one cup, which belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, of which we know that the Dark Lord stole and killed for it, and since _he_ always felt very connected to Hogwarts, I assume he'd consider it a worthy vessel for a part of his soul. Apparently the only known Gryffindor relic is the aforementioned sword, which is definitely not a Horcrux, but I'm betting there is an artefact of Rowena Ravenclaw's in his collection. Other than that..." I trailed off, wondering if I should even talk about something I was so uncertain of.

"Other than that? Hermione, do I have to start torturing you again in order for you to talk to me? Because I had hoped we were past this point by now," Lucius stated, sounding only half-annoyed.

"There is, one... theory I have," I finally admitted. "It's nothing more than a thought, based on loose clues at best, but... Well, I think his snake, Nagini, might be another Horcrux."

"Explain," he said cautiously.

"First of all, Professor Dumbledore himself said the control the Dark Lord has over the snake surpasses even what's to be expected from a Parselmouth, but that's not it. Have I told you that Harry took Occlumency lessons in fifth year so the Dark Lord couldn't use their strange mind connection to harm Harry?"

"Ah, you mean the mind connection the Dark Lord used in the very same year to lure you out of Hogwarts to the Department of Mysteries and-"

"Yes, Lucius, I remember." It was now again my turn to be annoyed, apparently. "If I may continue? Or would you prefer talking about the good old times? Because I have distinct memories of you _failing_ to retrieve a certain prophecy, and-"

"You may continue," Lucius conceded, his lips dangerously thin.

"What happened before the great success that were Harry's Occlumency lessons, was that one night Harry saw Arthur Weasley being attacked by Nagini – it seemed to be a nightmare at first, but we ended up finding Mister Weasley bleeding heavily in the Department of Mysteries – wipe that sneer off your face – and just in time to save his life, too. At the time everyone was too worried to think about the nature of Harry's vision, but you know... Harry has only ever seen snippets of the Dark Lord's mind, little scenes through his eyes, and in his 'dream', Harry _was_ Nagini. And I might be mistaken, but I think it means..."

"The snake is another Horcrux," Lucius nodded. He looked thoughtful. "He rarely let Nagini out of his sight back in the days, and now that he assumes the Potter boy is out there to fight him, I don't think it will be easy to gain access to one without meeting the other, too..."

"We'll worry about that later, though. For now we have the substantial problem of having to break into a Gringotts vault of a murderous maniac to destroy something that might or might not be a cup or something completely different," I sighed, and grew slightly irritated when I found Lucius smirking at me.

"Why, Miss Granger, I never took you for one to break into other people's vaults. You could go to _Azkaban_ for that." There it was again, his all too familiar sneer.

 _I preferred Lucius when he was my silent prisoner,_ I thought, exasperated. _Actually, I even preferred him when he just went around torturing and killing my friends_.

"So I assume we should just walk into Gringotts and demand access to Bellatrix's vault, then?" I snarled.

"Do not be foolish, girl. I intend to walk into Gringotts and demand access to _my_ vault." I could hardly prevent myself from hexing the smug expression from his face.

"Lucius, do I have to start torturing you again in order for you to talk to me? Because rest assured, I am _not_ past that point at all," I warned him.

"As you are aware, I am Bellatrix Lestrange's brother in law, as well as a not-so-distant cousin of Rodolphus Lestrange – and probably of Bellatrix, too. As such, and considering that the Dark Lord has been storing important artefacts in the Lestrange vault for quite some time, I was granted access to the it around twenty years ago, and I would have noticed had anyone revoked it."

"So our actual problem isn't getting into the vault but getting into Gringotts unnoticed?"

I was too excited over this unexpected advantage to care about Lucius' self-satisfied tone any longer. This was way better than what I could have hoped for. Getting into the Wizarding Bank unseen by Death Eaters would be hard, but not impossible, and certainly not harder than breaking into the Ministry of Magic. We were both proficient enough in both regular and Dark Magic to pull it off. There were so many things that could go wrong, but I had endured enough not to let fear overwhelm me any longer, and I didn't have much to lose, anyway.

A deep calmness overcame me. I knew that from now on, there would be no going back and that there was no guarantee we'd make it out alive in the end.

"We'll take three more days to prepare," I said determinedly.

"On the fourth day, we'll Apparate to Diagon Alley at dawn."


End file.
